


Mad World: Break Me Down

by crimsonglass



Series: Mad World [1]
Category: General Hospital
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 96,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonglass/pseuds/crimsonglass
Summary: Set in 2003. Elizabeth Webber and Jason Morgan walked away from each other in the fall of 2002 and have built new lives for themselves. Elizabeth is recently married to Sonny Corinthos' half-brother, Ric Lansing, while Jason is on the brink of marrying Sonny's sister, Courtney Matthews. To everyone around them, it looks as though their brief romance is a relic of the past.Then Carly Corinthos goes missing on the eve of Jason's wedding, and everyone knows that Ric Lansing is behind her kidnapping. How did he do it and where is he hiding Carly? Jason reluctantly allows Elizabeth to help him in his search as Sonny fends off the PCPD who don't seem that concerned with Carly. Can they find Carly before Ric can carry out his revenge? Or before it costs one of them their life?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Mad World begins in late June 2003 at the wedding of Jason Morgan and Courtney Matthews. I've changed pieces of 2003 to better fit with the storyline I wanted to tell.
> 
> Emily does not return to Port Charles in March 2003 and does not suffer from breast cancer. There was no Summer storyline, and Lucky's post-Laura storyline is very different. It will be detailed in the first few chapters. Nikolas and Lesley went to London with Laura to help her in her recovery, leaving Lulu with Bobbie and Lucas.
> 
> Jason and Courtney's relationship happened pretty much as it did on the show, leading up to their engagement and almost wedding. This is the same for Sonny and Carly. Elizabeth and Ric's relationship is different. They grow closer after Audrey's death in January, and Ric is not shot in March. Everything else will be explained in the story.
> 
> The teens (Lucas, Dillon, Georgie, Maxie, Lulu, Brooke) have been aged slightly. Lucas, Dillon, Maxie, and Brooke are about 19 and starting sophomore year at PCU. Georgie and Lulu just graduated high school.
> 
> This story picks up on Friday, June 19, 2003, which was canonically, the date that Jason and Courtney were supposed to get married on the show and the day Ric kidnapped Carly.
> 
> New chapters are posted Mondays & Wednesdays

_It's on your face; is it on your mind?_  
 _Would you care to build a house of your own?_  
 _How much longer, how long can you wait?_  
 _It's like you wanted to go and give yourself away_  
 _Heaven forbid you end up alone and don't know why_  
 _Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright_  
\- Heaven Forbid, The Fray

* * *

_Friday, June 19, 2003_

**Kelly’s: Courtyard**

Elizabeth Webber pasted a smile on her face as Georgie Jones set a plate of French toast and sausage in front of her, then an omelet and wheat toast in front of her best friend, Emily Bowen-Quartermaine.

This was a happy day, Elizabeth reminded herself. Her best friend in the entire world was in town for a weekend, and Elizabeth desperately needed her cheerful and bright-eyed nature.

Except that Emily was rolling her eyes about the wedding she had come to town for and her idiot brother’s ridiculous choice of a second wife. Like he hadn’t made a terrible choice the first time, right?

Elizabeth managed a weak smile as she sipped her orange juice.

“Oh, ugh, I’m tired of talking about Jason being an idiot.” Emily cut up her omelet and waved her fork at Elizabeth. “You need to tell me everything you haven’t been saying over the phone.” Her best friend’s dark eyes peered at her. “Tell me about the new husband—and what is it with this town and quickie marriages lately? Both my brothers got married and divorced before I could even find out where they were registered, and you’re married to a guy I’ve never met—”

“Oh.” Elizabeth smiled. “Ric is…he’s good. He’s a lawyer, you know. Um, criminal law. He was working for Sonny and Jason for a little while, but it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Emily hesitated. “Listen, Mom—she called to tell me that you’d had a miscarriage. She was…she thought you might not tell me.”

Elizabeth sighed, put down her fork. “Yeah. I—I was pregnant. For about…” A brief shining moment. “I was about two months along, but I—I fell. And yeah.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “I’m okay.”

“Uh huh.” Emily pushed her egg around her plate with her fork. “You don’t have to talk to me, Elizabeth. No, cancel that.” She leaned forward, lowered her voice. “I wanted to…I wanted to try to pretend for you. I know you want that. You want to stick your head in the sand—”

“Emily—”

“You think because I haven’t been home for two years that I’m an _idiot_?” Emily rolled her eyes. “A year ago, my brother married this girl. A year later, she’s marrying Jason, and AJ is off in New Orleans trying to put his life back together. Plus, I _distinctly_ remember my mother calling me last fall to tell me _you_ were living with Jason—”

“Emily—”

“I didn’t press you for details then. I figured you want to talk about it, you’ll tell me. I didn’t want to butt in. God knows I did that too much with Lucky when he came home.” Emily pursed her lips. “So, I let it go. And I let you say nothing in phone calls.  _Nothing_ in your letters and emails. When you bothered to send them at all—”

“Emily—”

“I come home, and you’ve lost weight. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. You look miserable, Elizabeth. I know you just had a terrible tragedy, and I just—you don’t have to pretend for me.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes when Emily finally lapsed into silence. What could she say to her best friend? Why had Emily chosen this moment to finally…look at Elizabeth and _see_ her?

“I _am_ …struggling,” Elizabeth said finally. “I—I—” She hesitated. “I’m not going to talk about what happened with Jason. Or Courtney. I can’t.”

“Okay, but—”

“Ric is…” Elizabeth paused, searching for the right words. She didn’t want Emily to worry about her. Maybe if Emily wasn’t going back to her summer program at UCLA in two days… _maybe_ Elizabeth could feel free to say more.

But Emily wouldn’t be here.

And there were still some things Elizabeth didn’t want to think about it.

“Ric is a choice I made when I thought—when there was a baby involved. But I made it, and I can live with it.”

“You can live with it,” Emily murmured. “That’s not marriage, Elizabeth. You deserve more.”

“I deserve what I have for a lot of reasons. Don’t worry about me, Em. You’re here for a happy reason. You know, Jason is getting married, and—” Elizabeth stopped.

There were some things she couldn’t fake.

“Yeah, my brother is marrying his brother’s ex-wife.” Emily raised her glass in a mock toast. “Awesome sauce. Let’s drink to _that_.”

“Emily—” Elizabeth shook her head. “It was…complicated.”

“I don’t know how complicated it has to be since the ink on their divorce is barely dry,” Emily muttered. She stabbed a fork towards Elizabeth. “If I find out they were cheating on you and AJ—”

“Emily—it’s not…” Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s over now. That’s—it’s complicated.”

“Oh, my God. _That’s_ what happened. Are you freaking serious? What the hell—”

“Emily, it wasn’t—like that. Not exactly.” Damn it. “Okay, listen. I don’t—yes, I was at the penthouse for a while, but it wasn’t about…I mean, Jason and I were—we weren’t really together. We…talked about it. But it just…it got derailed by other stuff. And I don’t know what was going on with Courtney. I don’t know. Maybe she was—” Elizabeth sighed. “It wasn’t that simple. Please, _please_ , don’t bring this up to either of them. I already—I embarrassed myself enough when—”

Her eyes burned at the memory of confronting Courtney in Kelly’s. Going after her. The way Jason had defended Courtney had stopped Elizabeth from _ever_ asking when it had actually started.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“Please.”

Emily sat back and huffed. “Fine. It’s not my thing to get pissed about, I guess. I’m just—ugh. I should have come back to PCU instead of transferring to UCLA—”

“I miss you so much, Em. I can’t wait until you come back home in August.” Elizabeth reached across to take her hand. “And I love how much you love me. But Jason is your brother. And his choices matter. He…obviously loves Courtney. It’s—” It was the only explanation. “So please, tonight, be his sister. Not my friend.”

“Yeah, okay. But I’m still gonna be AJ’s sister, so I can’t promise anything.”

Elizabeth asked her a question about California and was able to distract Emily for almost twenty minutes. She pushed her food around her plate and listened to Emily talk about college and how hard she was working.

“Oh.” Emily straightened. “Jason! Hey!”

Elizabeth closed her eyes as Emily got to her feet and rushed around Elizabeth—likely to hug her brother who had obviously come up behind them at some point. There was a sour taste in her mouth as she contemplated turning around. She wanted to disappear—just stand up and walk away.

Thank God Jason hadn’t arrived earlier.

She took a deep breath, gathered herself. She could do this.

She was good at this.

Elizabeth took her wallet out of her purse and tossed a ten on the table to cover her breakfast before standing and turning to flash a bright smile at Emily’s brother.

Jason Morgan stood there, looking much as he had the year before in a pair of blue jeans and a dark T-shirt. His arm was loose around his sister’s waist and he was smiling a little.

“Hey.” Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ears as she slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Congratulations.”

Jason’s smile dimmed slightly as he tipped his head, his forehead slightly wrinkled. “Elizabeth. Hey. Um, thanks.”

“We were just eating breakfast—” Emily scowled. “Liz, why did you put down money—”

“Oh, I have to get going. I’m done anyway.” Elizabeth smiled again. “And I know you guys must want to catch up before things get crazy later today.”

“Yeah, but—”

Elizabeth managed to keep the smile on her face as she looked at Jason again, but their eyes met. Held for a moment. “I—I wish you happiness, Jason.” She cleared her throat, fixed the strap higher on her shoulder. Again. She desperately wanted to have something to do with her hands.

“You don’t have to go,” Jason said, stepping forward, his arm falling from his sister’s waist. “You haven’t seen Emily either—”

“I know, and I’ve missed her, but—” Elizabeth looked at Emily. “You’ll be back in two months for good a-and you know, I’ve waited this long. I really do have to go. We just—” She swallowed. “We moved last week, and I haven’t really unpacked.”

And then the interest slid from Jason’s eyes at that reminder. She’d married Ric. A man Jason hated more than anything in the world.

“Congratulations, and good luck tonight.”  And then Elizabeth hurried from the courtyard, not looking back.

Emily stared after her before looking back at the table. “She didn’t eat anything.”

“What?” Jason asked, frowning. “What—”

“We’ve been here for almost a half hour.” Emily gestured at their breakfast plates. Her own plate was half-eaten, but all Elizabeth had really done was cut her French toast and move those pieces around her plate. “She’s lost weight, did you notice?”

“I—” Jason’s shoulders squared, and he squinted. “Yeah, I saw. She…she lost a baby a few weeks ago, Em. She’s probably not doing well.” He looked away.

“Probably?” Emily arched her eyebrows. “I thought you were guys were friends.”

“Emily—”

“By the way, not that I’m gonna rain on your parade or anything, but you should know my loyalties are divided about this wedding.”

Jason closed his eyes. “About Elizabeth? Listen…”

“Who said anything about Elizabeth?” Emily asked, innocently. “I was talking about the fact you’re marrying AJ’s ex-wife. And hey, how solid _are_ you that the divorce is legal? You know us Quartermaines.” She batted her eye lashes. “We lie.”

**Port Charles Police Department: Locker Room**

It was his first day as a police officer.

If anyone had told Lucky Spencer as a teenager that he would have worked his ass off in the academy to get to this point, well—he would have smirked and flipped that person off.

But he _was_ here. Starting the next chapter of his life.

Lucky grinned when he saw the dark-haired New York native who had the locker next to him. “Hey! I didn’t know you were gonna end up here.”

His roommate from the academy, Dante Falconieri, flashed a returning smile as he buttoned the crisp blue uniform shirt. “Yeah, well, I was waiting on a few places. I wasn’t wild about going back to Bensonhurst and trying to pretend I had some authority. Most of my family would laugh in my face.”

“Cruz is starting today, too,” Lucky said, with a nod. He tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed it in the locker. “I got assigned to Major Crimes with your cousin.”

“Vinnie?” Dante said with a wicked grin. “Good luck. He’s an asshole. I got Major Crimes, too, but I’m stuck on patrol with some guy who looks like he ate his weight in donuts.” He frowned slightly.  “Where is Cruz? He better not be late on his first day—”

“Oh, he’s got a later shift” Lucky shrugged. “Jason Morgan is getting married tonight, so I guess they’re…I don’t know, worried about it.” He snorted. “Glad I don’t have _that_ detail.”

And hoped he wouldn’t be asked to work any case with people he’d known once. The whole point of this job was a new start. A new life. Putting the old Lucky Spencer behind him.

“Yeah, I do _not_ hear good things about the Organized Crime Unit.” Dante laced his shoes. “But, hell, no one stays at the PCPD for their entire career. You put some time in the streets, get some experience and then go somewhere where the senior officers aren’t a bunch of idiots.”

Lucky picked up the badge he’d been issued the week before after his orientation, then clipped it to his breast pocket.  “I mean, if Taggert, Capelli, and your cousin can do it—” He shrugged. “Hey, how hard can this be?”

**District Attorney Wing, Municipal Building: Scott Baldwin’s Office**

Over a cup of coffee, Scott Baldwin perused the list of new recruits Commissioner Mac Scorpio had sent him earlier that day. A grant from the state had allowed them to hire three new police officers, but they’d had to be pulled from the ranks of the local police academy.

Scott’s eyes fell on one name. Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Jr. Assigned to Major Crimes under the supervision of Detective Vincent Esposito.

“So, he _really_ did it,” Scott murmured. “I’ll be damned.” Luke Spencer’s son would be fighting on the right side of the law—Scott would believe _that_ when he saw it.

“Mr. Baldwin?”

He glanced up to find his secretary standing at his door, an expectant look on her face. “What is it, Barb? Did I forget an appointment?”

“Your 9 AM meeting with Kelsey Joyce for the Major Crimes division—”

“Right, right.” Scott turned away from his computer monitor and the email and rose from his desk. “Bring her in.”

“He’ll see you now,” Barb said as she turned back to someone outside. She stepped aside, and a young brunette entered, dressed in a slim black pencil skirt with a black blazer over a cotton candy pink skirt.

“Mr. Baldwin,” Kelsey Joyce said, flashing a bright smile, her brown eyes glowing. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Kelsey,” Scott said, extending a hand. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since you graduated high school, though that wasn’t so long ago, huh?” He gestured for her take a seat at the small conference table. “How’s your mother?”

“She’s good.” Kelsey sighed, and now that light dimmed slightly. “Still misses Dad. And she said thanks for taking me on here—with Lee and Gail so nearby, she won’t worry about me as much.”

Oliver Joyce had been a close friend of Scott’s in law school in Buffalo, but they had been in and out of touch over the years. His death in a car accident almost a decade ago had been a shock for everyone who loved him.

“Gail is always looking for someone to worry about, so she’ll be happy to add you.” Scott sighed. “I wish I hadn’t lost touch with your father. He was a good man. Always encouraged me to follow my conscience. I usually ignored him, but sometimes, you know I still hear him in the back of my head.” He smiled at her. “He’d have been proud of you. Graduating high school at sixteen, passing the bar at twenty-three. His brilliant daughter.”

“Well, I hope I can live up to him.” Kelsey folded her hands in her lap. “Your secretary said I’d been assigned to Major Crimes—”

“Yeah, yeah. We had, um, a meeting with the mayor last month—the commissioner and I are old friends, and we work closely together. It seems the mayor’s office is unhappy with the lack of priority Major Crimes gets—”

“Well, it’s Port Charles. You share a water border with Canada.” Kelsey shrugged. “I understand that organized crime would take precedence—”

“And we’re not taking our focus off that, but we’ve been having trouble keeping officers at the PCPD. Frustration over those priorities. Feeling neglected. We need to do more for the rest of Port Charles. I promised I _would_ do more when I got elected.”

“Okay. So, is that where I’ll be working?”

Scott hesitated. “I know this might seem insane, but our resources are limited. We only have one another attorney assigned to Major Crimes—Danielle Simmons—but she’s on maternity leave. For the next two months.” And had given some indication that she planned to go into private practice within the next six months for a better schedule, but Scott didn’t think that was the best news he could give her right.

Kelsey blinked. “Wait. Does that mean I would be—”

“For the moment, yeah, you’re basically running Major Crimes.” He sighed. “I told you. We’re crap at priorities in Port Charles.”

**Kelly’s: Dining Room**

Ned Ashton leaned back in his chair, then shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “Brooke, I know you’re not happy—”

His nineteen-year-old daughter rolled her eyes and huffed. “Oh, yeah? What gave it away?”

“ _This_ is going well,” his younger brother, Dillon, said to him. While his tone was upbeat, his face remained stoic. “I’m glad I canceled my plans to be snarked for an hour, but you know I got a busy day ahead of me to be yelled at by _anyone_ else—”

“Who invited you anyway?” Brooke Lynn retorted. She snorted “Nothing is gonna make me okay with being stuck here in this backwater with a bunch of hicks when I could be at home—”

“Where you were failing out of Columbia?” Ned asked. “Getting arrested?”

Brooke groaned. “Oh, God. It wasn’t that bad. I was just with some friends—”

“Who were shoplifting.”

“One bottle of wine.”

“Your mother and I decided you need a change in scenery—”

“Do you _need_ me for this?” Dillon asked, leaning forward. “Because, seriously, I could go.”

Ned glared at his brother. He’d brought the idiot along because Dillon was only a year older than Brooke. He was supposed to be the mediator. He was _supposed_ to speak Brooke’s language.

But no one spoke Brooke’s language clearly, and Ned was obviously being punished for not being as hands on with his daughter as he would have liked.

“Brooke—”

“You and Ma sicced Grandma on me,” Brooke interrupted, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. “You know what she’s like. How am I supposed to tell her no? But I’m nineteen, Dad. You don’t get to run my life. You couldn’t even do that when you were supposed to.”

“That’s a fair point,” Dillon said to her. “I got one of those, too. I met him once. When I was, like, ten. I think. Maybe I was nine—” He screwed his face up in concentration, and Ned knew his story-telling loving brother could go on for hours off he was on a tangent.

“Dillon,” Ned said, flatly. “Go away.”

“Gone.” Dillon jumped up and moved to the counter where his girlfriend, Georgie, was serving Maxie and Lucas Jones.

“I can make my _own_ friends, you know.”

Ned sighed and reached for his cup of coffee. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to bring Brooke to Port Charles for the summer, to give her time to settle in and make some friends before transferring to PCU for her sophomore year.

But the little girl he remembered had transformed into a sulky young woman who wore too much eye makeup, too much jewelry, and too little clothing. He didn’t know this girl.

He didn’t know _how_ to know this girl.

And he hated himself for letting Lois take the lead on raising her, and Lois for leaving him for no reason at all. But Brooke was _his_ daughter. And he had to make the effort.

“Alexis wanted to have us over for dinner this weekend. To celebrate finishing her therapy and getting custody of Kristina back.” Ned eyed Brooke. “Can you at least join me for _that_?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Brooke shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? Go to the movies?” She rolled her eyes. “God, I miss New York.”

Ned rubbed the back of his neck and felt very guilty when his phone vibrated, and he was relieved at the opportunity to talk to someone else. Anyone else. He flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“We need to talk. Immediately.”

Ned grimaced at the sound of Faith Roscoe’s voice. The universe was obviously punishing him for granting his wish, because _this_ he did not need. “I’m busy—”

“We’ve got a problem. You know where to find me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Ned closed his phone and slid into the pocket of his trousers. He dropped a twenty on the table. “I have a meeting—”

“Well, _that_ took five seconds.” Brooke got to her feet. “Are you gonna take me back to the gatehouse or am I stuck here?”

“Dillon,” Ned said, twisting towards the counter. “Can you drop Brooke at the house—”

“I need a car. This is never gonna work—”

“Oh, yeah,” Dillon said with a sigh. “That sounds like a great time. Let me just stop my life and take care of _yours_.”

“Great. Thanks. You’re the best brother.”

**Queen of Angels: Chapel**

Carly Corinthos grimaced at the floral arrangements alongside the pews down the aisle. “I thought these were supposed to be yellow.” she said to the wedding planner.

“They were,” the woman said with a harassed smile and clenched teeth. “But the bride called last week to change them to pink. Said money was no obstacle.”

“Oh.” Carly frowned and looked back at the tulips. “We didn’t—All right, it’s not my wedding, I guess.” She signed the last piece of paperwork from her. “All right. I guess that’s everything until later tonight.”

She dismissed the wedding planner from her mind and went to find Jason, so he could take her back to the penthouse where she’d arranged several hours of massages, hair dressing, and makeup before the ceremony at seven that evening.

She found Jason in the anteroom going over the final security arrangements with Father Coates. She hung back until Jason had shaken the priest’s hand.

“You ready to go?” Jason asked. He crossed his arms and looked away from the inside of the chapel where in a few hours, his wedding would begin.

“Yeah, everything is fine here.” Carly smiled at the priest who had performed her wedding to Sonny the year before, and then followed Jason into the courtyard.

Because she was a bit worried about Jason’s…lack of excitement, she decided to inspire him a little bit. Cheer him up—though why he’d need that on the day of his wedding…

She wound her arm through his as they made their way to the parking lot, bouncing a little on her feet. “I can’t believe you’re getting _married_ tonight, Jase! It feels like you just got engaged.”

“Yeah, it does.” He drew his brows together and looked away.

Carly slid a look at him under her lashes as they approached the SUV Jason had driven them in. “You know, I know you’re stoic and everything, but it’s _okay_ to be excited. You’re getting married.”

“I know.”

She put out a hand to stop him from opening the passenger door for her and looked at him.

He looked like he always did. Spiky brownish-blond hair, average height, clad in his usual jeans, a t-shirt stretched over a muscled chest.  But there was nothing in his eyes. No excitement, no interest. Just… _nothing_.

Jason had never been a man prone to much expression, but if you wanted to know how he really felt about something, you looked him in the eyes.

“Jase…” Carly bit her lip. “Listen, I know—” She turned to face him, and he just sighed. “I know maybe it was possibly _my_ idea for you to propose—”

“Carly—”

“And _maybe_ I encouraged you to ask Courtney out, but that was just because I didn’t want you to get back together with Elizabeth, and you know she doesn’t get you anyway. I mean, God, she married Ric after _everything_ we told her about him. If that doesn’t—”

“Emily is here for the wedding,” Jason interrupted. “And she doesn’t like Courtney. I met her for coffee this morning, so—”

“Oh.” Carly closed her mouth. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, she’s probably the last person in the world that likes AJ, so I guess you marrying his ex-wife…” She shrugged. “Are…are you sure that’s it? I mean, look—if you’re having second thoughts—”

“I’m not.” Jason brushed her hand away from the door and opened it. “I asked Courtney to marry me. You’re right. She’s Sonny’s sister. She understands what I do. I knew what I was doing when I asked her. And that’s it.”

“And you love her,” Carly said with a smile she didn’t feel at all. “So, okay. Let’s go back to the penthouses so we can get ready.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “In five hours, you’ll be a married man!”

This time, Jason did smile at her.

But it didn’t change the expression in his eyes.

She climbed into the passenger side, and he closed the door after her. She’d done what she could—she’d given him an opening to tell her if anything was wrong, and he hadn’t taken it.

So, she’d do exactly what Jason had always asked her to do and stay the hell out of it.

**Lansing House: Front Porch**

When she had left breakfast earlier that morning, she had not gone home to unpack. Instead, Elizabeth had gone to her studio, turned on the small television she always kept there and wasted her day watching day time television and sleeping.

She couldn’t sleep at home, spent hours awake at night next to Ric. Next to her husband. Wondering what happened to her life.  How she had ended up married to a man she didn’t love any more than the one she had left at the altar over a year ago.

So, she spent her days at her old studio, pretending to get ready for a one-woman show that Ric had arranged at a local gallery. Elizabeth kept pushing off the date, kept saying she wasn’t ready. Since she hadn’t picked up a pencil or brush in nearly two months, it was unlikely she would be ready any time soon.

But she couldn’t keep ignoring her life. _Couldn’t_ keep running away from her choices. Everyone else had moved on with their lives.

Emily was pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor, Nikolas was staying in London as Laura recovered from her nervous breakdown, Lucky had started a new career as a police officer, Zander had moved to New York for a job with ELQ, and Jason…

Jason was getting married.

Like she had.

It was over. It had never really existed. Hadn’t she had proof of that over the last year?

So, Elizabeth made a promise to herself. She would go home, and she would try to live the fresh start Ric wanted to give them. He had gone and bought a beautiful home for their new future. _He_ wanted to be with her. He wanted to be a better person.

At six o’clock that evening, Elizabeth opened the front door and accepted Ric’s kiss and the offer of champagne to celebrate their first week in their new home.


	2. Chapter Two

_You'll say you understand_  
 _But you don't understand_  
 _You'll say you'd never_  
 _Give up seeing eye to eye_  
 _But never is a promise_  
 _And you can't afford to lie_  
\- Never Is A Promise, Fiona Apple

* * *

_Friday, June 19, 2003_

**Pier 52: Warehouse**

The building still had the logo of the Roscoe Imports Company emblazoned across the doorway, though it had not done any business since Mickey Roscoe had died the year before. His grieving widow kept it and used the offices, but she had never been able to muster the backing or finances to keep the front going.

Ned walked through the empty building, wishing he had brought someone with him. Not that he had anyone who would fit the bill since no one even knew he was working with Faith Roscoe—and hadn’t that been a stupid idea?

When Faith had wanted revenge on Sonny the previous year, after her husband’s disappearance and after Kristina’s death, it had seemed like a manna from heaven. She’d already arranged for an old associate to come to town—Ric Lansing who was supposed to get into the organization, dismantle it from within while Ned had bankrolled the entire operation.

But nothing had gone to plan, and Ric hadn’t returned any calls for weeks.

Faith Roscoe was pacing the empty office, her black stilettos clicking against the cement floor. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” Her blue eyes snapping, digging holes into him, she stopped in front of him, hands planted on her hips.

“I’m sure I don’t care,” Ned said. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” the blonde demanded with a brittle laugh. “I _want_ to cut that little china doll into tiny pieces.”

Ned furrowed his brow. “China doll?” he echoed. “Is this about Elizabeth?” It hadn’t bothered him at first that Faith and Ric were sleeping together…until Elizabeth had turned up pregnant and married to Ric. He hadn’t paid much attention to her before that, but the miscarriage…had upset Monica who had called Emily.

And he had honestly forgotten Elizabeth had been Emily’s friend—hadn’t thought of her as anything other than a pawn Ric was using to get closer to Jason and Sonny.

It had disturbed him to know he was capable of such…callous disrespect for a young woman who he knew had helped Kristina the year before, had been there when the warehouse exploded. Attended her funeral.

“It’s _always_ about Elizabeth when it comes to Ric. He’s up to something, you know that? He’s not talking to me. He’s not following the plan—he’s got her all set up in a house—” Faith huffed. “You know, if _she_ weren’t around, maybe he’d—”

“Stop right there.” Ned held up a hand, shook his head. “Stop. I’m out. I wanted Sonny to pay for what happened to my fiancée. That’s not news. And I lost my head for a while. But I don’t trust Ric, I don’t trust you—and—” he hesitated. “This just _isn’t_ what I want anymore.”

Faith narrowed her eyes, planting her red-tipped hands at her waist. “You think you’re walking away from me? _No_ one walks away from me.”

“Well, it looks like Ric has.”

“Oh, and _he’ll_ get what’s coming to him, too,” Faith called after him as Ned turned away. “Him _and_ that little china doll!”

“And so will anyone else that gets in my way,” she muttered when he was gone.

**Queen of Angels: Bridal Room**

In just a little over a year, Courtney Matthews had been engaged twice. Three times, if one counted a blackmailed engagement that had lasted all of an hour and a half.

The first had resulted in quick ceremony—a spur of the moment, spontaneous leap of faith with a man she barely knew. It had been just she and AJ in front of a justice of the peace, a plain white dress and a suit, and two witnesses they’d dragged off the street.

And now, she stood in an elaborate white gown in the bridal suite of a Catholic church sitting in a room with two women who hated her.

Courtney couldn’t explain why but, in this moment, she yearned for the spontaneous sweetness of her first wedding. Their marriage might have ended in disaster—AJ may have broken her heart—but at least she could say she honestly believed in their love for one another, no matter how it had begun or ended.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried to recall the happiness of the moment Jason had proposed but she simply couldn’t. The heavy, tense atmosphere in her bridal suite had poisoned the memory and every other positive emotion she’d tried to dredge up.

“You need anything?” Jason’s sister asked sullenly from the other side of the room. Emily was tucked into one corner of a sofa, her mother in another. But the words meant nothing, spoken merely to break into the tense silence.

After all, neither of them moved towards Courtney to do anything to actually help her put on her veil, adjust her hair. Carly was nowhere to be found, and neither was her brother. Nothing new there. They were somewhere else, concerned about themselves just like they _always_ were.

And Jason…

Jason was slipping away from her and had been for weeks. But that didn’t matter, she told herself, because it was clear Jason would go through with the ceremony. That he would marry her, and then maybe once that was over, Courtney could make him remember the beginning of their relationship. When she had made him happy.

If everyone else would just go away and stop reminding him of everything else, she knew he’d come back to her, and they would be happy together.

“Where’s Carly?” Monica asked stiffly. “You’d think since this was _her_ idea she’d be here helping.”

“I’m not sure where she is,” Courtney said carefully. “Um, I think I need some help with my veil—”

“Oh, you know, I’m no good with that sort of thing. Can’t do anything with these fingers,” the award-winning cardiothoracic surgeon said without batting an eyelash.

“I’m clumsy as hell,” Emily said. “Better wait for Carly. She’s been married so many times, she probably has this down to a science. Though I’m glad she never figured out how to get Jason to marry her. Then you guys would _really_ be weird. Two husbands in common. I mean, you already technically share them—”

Yeah, this was going to be a long night. Courtney looked at the filigree silver clock on the mantel across the room. Six-thirty.  Was it too soon for a drink?

She suddenly understood all too well how the Quartermaines could drive a person to drink. To drown out their voices—Courtney would gladly take a fifth of vodka.

“Why don’t I go find Carly?” Emily said with a bright smile. “Mom, want to help?”

“That sounds like a great plan.” Monica got to her feet and followed her daughter out of the room.

Everything would be fine once she and Jason were married. Jason loved her. She loved him. They were just…nervous. Or something. _Everything would be fine_.

**Luke’s: Bar**

Lucky grimaced as he wiped up a spilled drink on the bar with a soggy wet rag. “Claude!” he called to the back. “Your break is over—”

“Not for another ten minutes,” returned the lackadaisical reply of his father’s oldest and most reliable bartender.

Not that Claude showed him any goddamn respect even though Lucky was the only reason this place was still in business and _that_ was only to make sure Lulu could pay her tuition at PCU in the fall. Bad enough she was living with Bobbie who was footing her daily expenses. Lucky wasn’t going to let his little sister hang out to dry, even though clearly their father was content to do so.  They hadn’t seen or heard from Luke in nearly six months—not since the day Luke found out Lucky was attending the police academy.

If he ever wanted any proof he’d fallen far short of Luke’s expectations of him—well, the lack of word since then told Lucky everything he ever wanted to know.

He was still Luke Spencer’s son, but not the way he used to be.  It was just one more thing the Cassadines had stolen from him.

Above the din of the music and crowd, he saw the front door swing open and Dante walked in. “Pour me a pint, my good man.” He grinned. “I survived my first day, and lemme tell you, that wasn’t a guarantee.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Lucky scowled. “My day started like shit and went straight down from there.”

“Oh, what? My cousin Vinnie not up to your standards?” Dante asked as he took the Rolling Rock Lucky offered.

“How many times you think you’re going to manage to say my cousin Vinnie today?” Lucky asked. “It’s not _nearly_ as funny as you think it is.”

“Neither is Vinnie. He’s the least favorite son of my Ma’s least favorite sister.” Dante shrugged. “But he recommended me for the job, so I guess…”

“He’s lazy as shit,” Lucky muttered. “You would not believe how he half-asses his reports. We got a robbery today, right? This liquor store on Van Ess. He just hauls in the kids from the corners and starts harassing them into confessing. They did but there’s no way they did it.”

“Well, at least you’re not Cruz and you don’t have to listen to eight hours of Capelli and Taggert trying to figure out to sneak into someone’s wedding. I mean, this is _not_ what I thought I was signing up for.” Dante grimaced.

“What, you’re in it for truth, justice, and the American way?” Lucky said with a smirk. “It’s the PCPD. The cops who aren’t corrupt are generally just idiots.”

“You’re actually _from_ this place. How could you go to work for them when you know what they are?” Dante asked, curiously. “I mean, I know what you said while we in the academy, but I don’t think I _really_ understood it until today. My guy never got out of the damn patrol car. He kept taking calls and then just telling dispatch everything was clear.”

Lucky hesitated, then shrugged. “You know about my mother, right? She had a breakdown last year because Scott Baldwin and the PCPD kept hounding her about her stepfather’s death. Baldwin was so sure she was covering for my dad that he pretty much drove her over the edge. _That’s_ what they are. They’re bullies. They pick a suspect and go at them like a dog in heat.”

“Still—”

“After my mom lost it, my entire family fell apart. My dad went into the bottle, I lost my job at Deception because the new management didn’t want me.” He shrugged. “Nikolas, my brother, took my mom to London with my grandmother for treatment. I’m here, trying to make the club work, trying to take care of my sister, but Lu is running wild. Everything is going down the drain.”

“What does that have to do with you joining the force?”

“So, around Christmas, Baldwin has the nerve to come into _my_ bar and ask for a drink. I went after him about what he’d done to my mother—” Lucky took a long pull from his beer, “I also told him the PCPD was a useless pile of morons who couldn’t find their balls if they were handed to them on a fucking silver platter. Baldwin told me if I didn’t like the job they were doing, why didn’t _I_ try it? What, did it look easy? I don’t know. The way he said it made it sound like I couldn’t do it.” And the asshole had _sneered_ while he said it.

There was one aspect of Lucky’s personality that hadn’t faded with time and brainwashing—the minute someone told him he couldn’t do a thing, _doing it_ became all he could think about.

“You became a cop on a dare.” Dante nodded. “Fair enough. There are worse reasons.” He shook his head. “If it’s gonna be like this, I don’t think I wanna stay. I’ll get my experience, but—”

“I don’t know,” Lucky said after a long moment. “I mean, how long can they keep going like this? Eventually…something has to change, right? Mac’s not going to get away with this crap forever. Citizens are gonna start to want change. If we keep our noses clean, wait for promotions—”

“Maybe _we_ can change things? Nah, I’ve seen this movie. The good guys usually die in the end,” Dante joked. “I’ll get my rookie year under my belt, and then see if there’s something in Rochester or Buffalo. But you know, this is your hometown. I get it. You want it to get better.” He flashed a grin at pretty blonde at the other end of the bar. “Excuse me. I have business.”

Lucky dismissed him as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Yeah?”

_“Lucky?” His brother voice sounded a bit distant, but it was definitely Nikolas Cassadine. “Hey.”_

“Hey, Nikolas. What’s up? How’s Mom? Grandma?”

_“Good, good. Hey, listen. Luke showed up here a week ago.”_

Lucky closed his eyes “Damn it, why didn’t you call—”

_“Because he was sober,” Nikolas said simply. “And I wanted to see if it would last. It has. I’m letting him stick around for a while.” There was a pause. “How was your first day?”_

“Good. I guess. It’s what I expected mostly, but it’s a job. And something different.” Lucky hesitated. “He was sober?”

_“He looked like the Luke I remembered from before. He says he’s serious about Mom’s recovery, and he wants to do what he can. So…I’ll keep you in the loop. Hey…did you know Elizabeth got married?”_

Lucky grimaced. “I heard. How did you know?”

_“I talked to Bobbie earlier. She gave me Elizabeth’s new number, but I just…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize how far apart we’d grown until…who did she marry? I’ve never heard of him.”_

“Ric Lansing. He’s…not a great guy,” Lucky admitted. “Bobbie isn’t happy about it, but you know Elizabeth.”

_“Yeah, she’s never taken anybody’s advice. All right, well…I guess I’ll call her and at least try to congratulate her.”_

“It must be midnight there, Nikolas. Why are you still up—”

_“Catching up on paperwork. I’ll talk to you later, Lucky.”_

**Lansing House: Living Room**

The phone rang five times before the answering machine picked up. Ric’s voice greeted the caller, informing them that they had reached Richard and Elizabeth Lansing, but they weren’t available to take the call at the moment.

Not that Elizabeth had changed her name yet. Ric had brought her the paperwork the day after the wedding, but it remained incomplete upstairs in a drawer.

The machine beeped, and Nikolas Cassadine’s voice echoed in the room.

_“Elizabeth. Hey. I, uh, talked to Bobbie earlier, and she gave me your new number. I hope it’s okay. She mentioned you got married, and I just—I found myself thinking about the last time we saw one another, and I couldn’t remember when it was. I miss you. I’ll be home for a couple of weeks soon, so maybe…I’ll try to call you back later. Congratulations.”_

The phone clicked off.

Stretched out on the sofa, Elizabeth’s eyelids fluttered slightly but she did not move.

**Queen of Angels: Courtyard**

In less than an hour he would be a married man.

Jason took a deep breath and shook his head, turning back towards the church. He shouldn’t think of it that way—the idea of being married to Courtney shouldn’t…leave him empty.

It should be different. It _had_ been different. He’d proposed to her on his own volition, even if Carly had put the idea in his head. After all, he’d spent almost six months with Courtney. She’d put up with everything he’d thrown at her—a fake marriage to Brenda, a murder trial, car accidents, being kidnapped—she’d stuck by him through everything.

She understood his life.  He cared about her and knew getting married would make her happy, so why not?

Then why couldn’t he make himself cross the threshold into the church? Go meet Sonny and Michael at the end of the aisle so the wedding could begin?

It was probably Emily. His sister had made it clear she wasn’t happy about Jason marrying their brother’s ex-wife. And even though Emily hadn’t said much about Elizabeth—seeing her this morning weighed on him.

Elizabeth hadn’t looked well. Her eyes were shadowed with dark circles beneath them, her skin had been pale almost translucent, and she was thinner than Jason remembered. He knew that she’d lost a baby a month ago, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think about that.

She had married Ric despite everything they knew about him—despite what Jason had told her. She’d made her choice and so he’d put her out of his mind.

Until this morning, until Emily had looked at him with those eyes that asked why he wasn’t doing something to help Elizabeth. Not that he knew what he could do.

Elizabeth had stopped trusting him at some point, and he didn’t know how to get it back. If it was even possible. And the fact that he was moments from marrying another woman but was consumed with thoughts of Elizabeth was probably not a good sign.

“Jase? You ready? We’re going to get started in a minute.”

Jason turned to find Carly peering at him from the doorway. She started towards him. “Oh. Yeah. I was just…” He exhaled slowly. “Getting some air.”

“Some air,” Carly repeated quietly. “Listen. I _know_ I bugged you about this earlier, but I think maybe I should—” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Maybe I pushed Courtney too hard at you. I—I know you were…” She grimaced. “Upset at how things turned out with Elizabeth, I guess. And maybe Courtney was, like, a rebound—”

“A rebound?” Jason echoed. “What—”

“When you hurt, Jase, you try to fill your time with something else. You used to go to Jake’s and get in fights after Robin—”

“Carly—” He couldn’t do this now. He couldn’t let her give him an out—he was almost tempted to take it. But there was no going back, no turning back time and doing something different.

“A-And I just wonder if maybe Courtney was just there. And she was hurting, too. And maybe it all got out of hand because of the trial, and then Sonny—” Carly put her hands up to stop him from talking. “You said it earlier. Courtney gets your life. Maybe. But Jase, c’mon…” She tipped her head. “Is that _really_ enough to promise to spend the rest of your life together?”

Jason didn’t want to think about any of that. It was easier not to think about some things. He could live with the future he planned.  He’d do something to help Elizabeth because she was important to Emily, but everything else was off the table.

She’d taken it off the table herself.

He took a deep breath and looked at his best friend. “Carly, it’s done. C’mon, let’s go in—”

“I’ll be in in a minute.”

He hesitated but then nodded and went back inside the church.

Carly watched him go and wondered how much trouble she’d be in if she stopped the wedding. They might all be pissed at her, but—

She knew Jason _hated_ when she meddled in his life, and God knew she’d done it one too many times over the years, so maybe she should just butt out. But if Jason went through with this wedding when his heart wasn’t really in it—if he was staying with Courtney because it was easier than being alone—

Well, maybe Carly should intervene just _one_ more time. So, lost in her thoughts, Carly didn’t hear the heavy creak of the church’s wooden front doors cracking open.

Or the footsteps crunching on gravel behind her.

“Mom?”

Carly turned to smile at her son in the doorway to the church. “Hey, Mr. Man—”

A cloth clamped over her mouth as an arm snaked around her waist. Carly inhaled a sickly-sweet scent as she felt herself being jerked backwards. She wrenched out of the grasp, lurched forward, but felt her hair yanked back and the cloth settled over her mouth again. She tried to kick her legs but already…her energy was fading.

“Mom!” Michael cried. He started to run towards her, but Carly was off her feet, being dragged backwards.

_“Mommy!”_

The edges of Carly’s world begin to dim and then everything went black.

**Queen of Angels: Chapel**

Bobbie Spencer checked her watch and frowned. The ceremony should have started five minutes ago, but the doors to the back of the church were still closed. At her side, her son, Lucas, and niece, Lulu, were bickering about who would drive home since they were sharing the Ford Escort.

Bobbie got to her feet. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to see what’s keeping everyone.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas said. “It’s _my_ turn to drive, Lu—”

“Ha! Only because I gave you my turn last week—”

“Why do you remember everything?”

Bobbie abandoned the teenagers and made her way up the aisle and into the anteroom where Jason and Sonny were talking. “Hey.” She approached them. “Is anything wrong?”

“Oh, no.” Sonny shook his head. “Courtney stepped on the hem of her dress and the heel ripped it. They’re just fixing it—” He looked at Jason, squinted. “Did you see Carly come back in?”

Jason frowned. “No—I thought she was with Michael.”

“Then where’s Michael?” Bobbie demanded. She pushed past them to go towards the bridal suite. “Is he with Courtney?”

“No, Leticia was going to leave him with Carly, so she could fix the dress—” Sonny looked at Jason. “But…I never saw Carly come back in. I thought she came in while we were in the back, but—”

Jason went to the doorway of the church and threw open the doors. In the courtyard, near the gates, Michael lay sprawled out on the gravel, sobbing.

All three of them rushed forward, but Bobbie was slowed down by her heels. Jason reached the little boy first and swept him up in his arms. “What happened?” he demanded, roughly, checking him over for scrapes.

“I—I f-fell!” Michael wailed. “I t-tried to stop h-him! But the bad man took Mommy!” He sobbed, throwing his head back, the tears streaming down his face.

Jason’s heart stopped as he set Michael on his feet and knelt in front of him. “ _What_?”

“Jason,” Sonny said thickly, from a few away. Jason turned away from Michael to find Sonny standing just beyond the church gates, a pale purple heeled shoe in his hand.

**Lansing House: Living Room**

Ric carefully pushed open the door and breathed with relief—Elizabeth was exactly where he had left her thirty minutes earlier—sleeping on the sofa. He had worried over the dosage of Valium in the champagne—he had given her three more pills on top the two he generally slipped in her food and drink.

He hated drugging her, but it was the only way to keep her calm. To keep her with him. Ric just wanted to keep her safe. To give her the baby she deserved. And when she had that baby again, it would all be okay.

Elizabeth would love him again. She would be happy. She’d love the man who gave her the baby. She’d be such a good mother. So much better than Carly. If she could just give their new life a chance. She’d see it eventually.

Ric gently closed the door behind him and returned to the driveway. He opened the trunk, took out the portable wheelchair, unfolded it, and then wheeled it to the back passenger door.

Ric carefully lifted the unconscious Carly into the wheelchair and then wheeled her straight up the walk and into the house. He closed the door behind him, pulled the remote from his pants pocket, and watched as the wall slid back, revealing a hidden room with screens. He steered Carly across the room and into the panic room, pressing the remote again. The wall slid closed again, neatly hiding the small space from the rest of the room.

Ric laid Carly out on the bed and then attached the leg cuff to her right leg, hearing the metal clink and smiling in satisfaction. He switched on the screens in the panic room. He checked his watch, then opened the door again, walking into the living room and closing the panic room just as Elizabeth made a sound.

He had been cutting it close, and if Michael had recognized him—Ric expected Jason and Sonny to storm his door any minute. But he had carefully thought out this plan. He, of course, would be the primary suspect, but Elizabeth wouldn’t know he’d been gone. And whenever Jason had gone after Ric in her presence, Elizabeth had _always_ defended him.

Her loyalty would clear him, and well, Sonny had so many other enemies. He planned to lay some false trail and some red herrings to distract everyone. He hadn’t planned on Michael though, and Ric wasn’t sure how that would complicate things. He’d planned on at least another twenty minutes before Carly’s absence was noted—maybe even an hour before Jason and Sonny came to him.

As long as Ric remained calm, stuck to the plan, this would all be fine.

Elizabeth murmured something and then started to sit up, pressing a hand to her head. “Oh. Oh, my head is _killing_ me.”

“Hey, Beautiful. Your headache didn’t go away?” Ric murmured as he sat on the sofa beside her. “The champagne was probably not a great idea—”

Elizabeth blinked at him, her pupils so dilated that only a thin ring of blue was visible. “Headache?” she said. She licked her lips. “I don’t feel so good—how long was—was I asleep?” she asked, her words slurring.

Damn it. _Had_ he given her too much? Had mixing the pills with the alcohol been a mistake? If Jason Morgan showed up now, there would be no hiding Elizabeth’s condition—Damn that little gremlin for being where he wasn’t supposed to be! He had to get her more alert. Had to get her out of sight.

“Ric—how long—was I asleep?” she repeated. She tried to stand but swayed. Fell back onto the sofa.

“Just for a few minutes,” he lied. “You dozed off. You haven’t been sleeping much these last few weeks, you know. I guess it caught up with you.” He slid his fingers through her silky chestnut hair. “Why don’t you take a hot shower? I know it’s summer, but it might help.”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth licked her lips again. “Yeah, okay.” She rose to her feet again and this time, she managed to remain standing. “I’ll just—I’ll be upstairs.”

“Okay.” Ric watched her go slowly, her hand bracing along walls and banisters as she climbed the stairs. He took a deep breath. Okay, the steam and water ought to clear some of the fogginess from her head. He needed Elizabeth to be clearer. Firmer.

She was his alibi after all.

He waited until he heard the water turn on upstairs before opening the panic room again. Carly should be waking any moment now, and he wanted her to see him.

To know that she and Sonny were _finally_ going to pay for everything they had stolen from him, from Elizabeth.

This was righteous.

This was justice.


	3. Chapter Three

_I was the match and you were the rock_  
 _Maybe we started this fire_  
 _We sat apart and watched_  
 _All we had burned on the pyre_  
 _You said we were born with nothing_  
 _And we sure as hell have nothing now_  
\- Things We Lost in the Fire, Bastille

* * *

_Friday, June 19, 2003_

**Queen of Angels: Courtyard**

Jason stared at the pale purple heel that dangled from Sonny’s trembling fingers.

When he had started to work for Sonny years earlier, he had worked a lot of stakeouts. Had followed people, listened as they talked to others. He had trained himself to automatically assess what people looked like and what they wore so he could recall them later. Give Sonny accurate reports.

He hadn’t paid attention to how Carly had dressed for his wedding—had barely paid attention to his own tuxedo. He’d unzipped a garment bag she’d given him and just worn whatever was inside. Now, Jason realized that he knew _exactly_ how his best friend had been dressed. It was crystallized in his memory as if she were standing in front of him.

A pale purple dress with spaghetti straps that fell to her knees with a high waist that covered her burgeoning pregnancy. It had been made of some sort of soft material that Jason didn’t know the name of, beyond the fact it was neither cotton nor silk.  Jason could visualize Carly walking towards him from the doorway of the church, carefully picking her feet over the gravel and soft ground to meet him near the gazebo where he had been standing.

Her feet wrapped in a pair of shoes that had matched her dress with thin straps at the ankle and a type of heel that had always reminded him of an ice pick.

The same shoe that Sonny now held.

Jason swallowed, turned to the little blond boy he still loved as his own, at the scraped and bleeding palms of the five-year-old, the torn dress pants showing a similarly scraped knee. The tear stains on his face.

“Michael,” he said quietly, firmly. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

Michael continued to cry, unable to form words through his choking sobs. Jason lifted him in his arms and looked at Sonny and Bobbie, their faces pale and shaken.

“Where are the guards?” Sonny bit out. “I thought you went over security—”

“I’m taking Michael inside,” Jason cut in. “Sonny, go find Francis. He’s head of the security detail. Find out where the hole in the perimeter was—there shouldn’t have been one,” he said as Sonny’s face darkened and his partner opened his mouth. “But obviously there was.”

“What do you want me to do?” Bobbie asked, crossing her arms.

“I need you to go find Emily and Monica,” Jason said. “Tell them—” He hesitated.

He _had_ to clear the church without anyone knowing what was going on. If the PCPD got wind that Carly was missing, they would shut the scene down. Jason wouldn’t be allowed to question Michael, to calm him down on his own. And he knew Taggert and Capelli would leap at the opportunity to tear apart Sonny and Jason’s holdings.

Whatever was happening, _wherever_ Carly was—it was crucial that Sonny and Jason retained control of the scene and situation.

Bobbie pressed her lips together and nodded. “You need me to get everyone out of the church without telling them why,” she said. She twisted her fingers together. “Okay. Do you care _what_ I tell them?”

“No,” Jason said shortly. “But ask Monica to do it. I need you and Emily in the back with me. Michael trusts both of you.”

The little boy was still crying in Jason’s arms, his face buried in the shoulder of Jason’s tuxedo jacket, the tears soaking through to the linen shirt beneath.

“Bobbie,” he said as a fuming Sonny disappeared through the gates—the shoe still clutched in his hand. The strap dangling. “I _will_ find her.”

“I know.” Bobbie took a moment. Took a deep breath. Composed herself. “I’ll get it done, Jason. I trust you.”

They returned to the church together—Bobbie went through the wide double doors and Jason strode down the hall where the bridal suite was located. He pushed the door open and Courtney gave a startled shriek as she topped backwards off the small step stool she had been standing upon, falling to the floor in a heap of white tulle and silk.

Leticia Juarez, Michael’s nanny, wrinkled her nose and started to stand to assist the bride, then froze when she saw her charge in Jason’s arms. “Michael?”

Courtney tried to sit up, to find the leverage to pull herself into a standing position, almost lost in the full skirts of her elaborate wedding dress. “You’re not supposed to be back here—”

But she closed her mouth as Jason ignored her completely and set Michael on the sofa. Leticia knelt in front of Michael, taking his small bleeding hands in hers. “What’s going on?”

“Mommy,” Michael managed to sob but couldn’t get anything else out.

The door opened again as Emily and Bobbie rushed in. “Jason—” His little sister quickly came to Michael’s side, sitting on the sofa. “Hey, buddy. What happened?”

Bobbie handed Leticia a first aid kit. “Monica is clearing the church as we speak.” She hesitated. “She _may_ have taken some liberties with the story I gave her.”

“Clearing the church?” Courtney demanded as Bobbie reluctantly pulled the bride to her feet. “What are you talking about? Jason, what the hell is going on? What happened to Michael—”

The door opened again as Sonny came in, his eyes a burning pit of coal as he closed it behind him. “They found a guard on the south side of the church.”

Jason looked at him. “Found—”

Sonny gently shook his head, and Jason understood. A guard had been killed. _That_ was the hole in the security.

“I want to know what the hell is—” Courtney tried again, but her voice died as she saw the shoe in Sonny’s hand. “Where is Carly?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

Jason ignored all of this, concentrated on Michael. He cupped his nephew’s face in one hand and kept his eye contact. “Hey, buddy. I need you take deep breaths for me. Okay. Breathe with me.”

He drew in a deep breath and Michael did the same.

“I will find your mother,” Jason said. “I just need you tell me what happened. Okay? I need you to be the best big brother and son you can be.”

“Mommy—she was standing outside,” Michael choked out. “And—And then a man p-put something over her mouth. Mommy—she tried to fight him. But he started dragging her away. I screamed. I ran after them, b-but I tripped—” His lips trembled as sobs continued to wrack his frame.

“We have to call the police,” Courtney said. “They—”

Bobbie closed a hand over the bride’s wrist and squeezed it hard. “No. Wait let him finish.”

“Do you know the man?” Jason asked. “Have you seen him before?”

“B-bad man,” Michael said with a nod. “Mommy doesn’t like him. He—he worked with her.”

Behind the sofa, Sonny braced his hands along the edge, dipping his head. Everything inside Jason went cold.

“Did he have dark hair?” Jason asked. “Like Daddy?”

“Oh, God—” Emily met Bobbie’s terrified eyes. “He can’t mean—”

Michael nodded. “R-Ric. I—I thought he-he was Mom—Mommy’s friend, but-but she was fighting—a-and then she stopped.”

“Drugged her,” Sonny muttered, dragging his free hand through his hair and closing his eyes.

Jason leaned forward, kissed Michael’s head. “Okay, okay. Michael, you did good. I’m _so_ proud of you. I need you to stay here with Aunt Emily and Grandma Bobbie, okay? Can you stay here? Stay safe—”

And then he and Sonny left the room without speaking further. No communication was needed. They knew where they had to go.

“We need to call—” Courtney started, but winced as Bobbie squeezed her wrist again. She yanked her arm away from Bobbie with a scowl. “What is your problem? We need to call the police. They need to start looking for Carly, too—”

“Jason and Sonny already know what happened to her,” Bobbie shot back. “Calling the police—”

“Oh, it’s not like it’s about their business,” Courtney cut in with a scathing tone. “Ric hates Sonny because of their mother. If Ric took Carly, then the police need to arrest him—”

“My brother is really marrying _her_?” Emily said to Leticia who just busied herself patching up Michael’s scratches.

“Hey, I get Jason’s life,” Courtney snarled. “But this is different. Carly was kidnapped by someone who hates Sonny because of personal reasons. Jason’s gone to the police before. Last year. Because Taggert was there when the crypt exploded. Remember, Bobbie—”

“As a _last_ resort,” Bobbie said with a weary sigh. “Courtney, I’m terrified, but we need to handle this the way Jason and Sonny want us to. Carly wouldn’t—”

“Carly isn’t here.” Courtney stalked towards the vanity where her purse sat, her dress rustling.

“Don’t—” Bobbie began, but Emily shook her head.

“We can wrestle her to the ground, but the second we turn our backs, she’s gonna call them. I’ve got something else.” Emily got to her feet. “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth,” Bobbie repeated. “I—”

“You know what’s going to happen. My brother and Sonny are going to burst into that house and start demanding answers. And Elizabeth is going to be in the middle of it all.” Emily folded her arms over her chest. “I want to be there. And I want to make sure Ric didn’t do anything to _her_.”

Bobbie scowled. “Courtney, this is my last warning—” But the bride was already speaking into the phone. “Okay, let’s go to the house. We can at least warn Jason and Sonny.”

**Lansing House: Panic Room**

Carly moaned, pressed her face into the fabric beneath her cheek. A hammer pounded inside her skull. Her body ached. Her mouth was dry. What the hell had happened to her?

Her vision blurred as she opened her eyes. This wasn’t her bed. The pillow beneath her head was too rough, the mattress thin and bumpy. Carly turned slightly and forced herself to sit up slowly. She was lying on a cot that was maybe a foot off the ground and…her ankle felt heavy. Cold. She tried to concentrate, to bring her location into focus.

A thick, heavy, metal bracelet was wrapped around her right ankle and attached to a chain. Carly stared at it for a long time because it didn’t make sense.

_Nothing_ about this made sense. Where the hell was she? What—

“There’s enough slack for you to move around, to use the bathroom but not to get near the door.”

A voice sliced through the fog, forcing Carly to turn, to find a shadow in the darkness. A light switched on over her and suddenly, the dim light of a single low-watt lamp next to her was replaced by brightness.

Carly cried out, her head exploding from the pain. “W-What—”

“You’ll have everything you need,” the voice continued, and Carly knew it. She couldn’t place it. Couldn’t make herself think. Couldn’t think past the pain.

“But you won’t be leaving this room.”

“What’s—” Carly managed. “What’s going on—”

“Don’t bother screaming. This room is sound proof and I will never be—” The voiced stopped. “That wasn’t long enough,” came an aggravated mutter.

She heard some moving—a new source of light, but she just couldn’t make herself move. And then the light was gone.

The voice was gone. The light was gone.

With the room once again plunged into the shadows, Carly could take a deeper breath. Her head was still pounding, but the piercing pain had faded.  She could focus now, and some of her panic was starting to recede.

There was some dim movement out of the corner of her eye, and then Carly could see a row of screens across from the cot. She took a deep breath and started to stand. The room wavered, but she forced herself not to sway.

Fought down the nausea.

She had to figure out where she was. Had to make sure she knew everything so that when Jason and Sonny found her—she’d be ready.

Carly limped the short distance between the cot and the little desk in front of the row of the screens built into the wall. The images were in black and white—and she didn’t recognize them. There was a living room with a sofa. A front door. A view of a street and driveway. A kitchen. A staircase. A bathroom. Two bedrooms—

But in the second bedroom, Carly did recognize someone. A short, thin woman was sitting on a bed, wrapped in a terry cloth robe.

Her dark hair bundled up in a messy bun, tendrils falling around her face, damp from a shower.

Elizabeth Webber was in that room.

And the voice…Oh, God. Now Carly knew that voice.

Ric Lansing.

Ric had kidnapped her. Locked her in this room.

She searched the screens frantically and finally found him climbing the stairs. He must have been out of frame before.

She watched him as he went into the bedroom. Elizabeth— _she_ couldn’t know, could she? Carly had always disliked the other woman, but Elizabeth was like Robin. A goody two shoes. An angel. Soft. Fragile. She could be a moron about guys, Carly knew that. But there was no way Elizabeth would be in on this.

She watched Ric pull Elizabeth to her feet—and there it was—a slight wobble. A sway. Elizabeth put a hand to her head. Said something. But now Carly knew. Elizabeth had been drugged just as she had been.

Michael. She brought a fist to her mouth. Oh, God, she remembered her little boy had been there. Crying. Screaming. Running after her. Had Ric hurt him? Where was he?

Had _he_ seen Ric? Could he—

Carly forced down her worries, her terror. Ric handed Elizabeth some clothes from a drawer and then she watched as the married couple talked for another moment. Ric was frowning, Elizabeth was holding the sweats in front of her.

She didn’t begin to change until Ric had left. An odd lack of intimacy for newlyweds and Carly looked away, followed Ric, rather than continuing to watch Elizabeth.

What did he have planned? Why—What had he said? She would have everything she needed…?  Why had he kidnapped her and locked her inside his own home? How could he possibly think to get away with this?

**Lansing Home: Master Bedroom**

When Ric was finally gone, Elizabeth released a breath and managed to pull on the thin gray sweatpants and blue tank top he had given her. He had been irritated that she wouldn’t dress in front of him, and Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure where her reticence had come from. Hadn’t she _just_ promised herself that she would reapply herself to her marriage?

She looked at the clock and frowned slightly. It was nearly seven-thirty.

How long _had_ she dozed? Ric had said it was for a few minutes but that couldn’t be right. She’d arrived just before six. She had had a glass of champagne.

And her head was fuzzy. Her mouth was still dry. She felt a bit better after the shower but—

She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. There were circles under her eyes, her skin was pale—even more than usual. She wasn’t sleeping. Wasn’t eating well. And she hadn’t felt right since her miscarriage. Dr. Meadows had given her a clean bill of health, but Elizabeth thought maybe it was time to go back—

A crash and men’s shouts drew her attention. Elizabeth’s ears perked up—she _knew_ those voices. But—but he was getting married—

Elizabeth stumbled out of the bedroom and towards the stairwell, bracing herself against the wall, vertigo sending her spinning. Why couldn’t she walk straight?  She could hear the shouts more clearly—Sonny’s demanding tones—something about Carly—and Jason’s growls. Something else crashed.

Elizabeth started down the stairs, holding on the rail with a death grip. Her stomach was rolling, and her head was swimming.

“J-Jason?” she managed as she came to the bottom of the staircase, switching her grip to the doorway that separated the stairwell from the living room.

Sonny and Jason were in her living room, clad in disheveled tuxedos. Sonny had Ric against the wall, his hands at his throat while Jason was opening a closet door.

All three men turned to look at her and she couldn’t process the scene. Couldn’t make it come out right. “You’re getting married,” she said without thinking to Jason. “Aren’t you?”

Jason scowled at her and then something in his eyes changed as he drew closer. He touched her chin, turned her head slightly and then turned back to Ric. “ _What_ did you give her?” he said, his voice reaching a low dangerous growl she had only heard a handful of times.

“What are you talking about?” Ric asked, his fingers digging at Sonny. “She’s fine. Elizabeth, _tell_ them—”

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth licked her lips. She reached out, but she just couldn’t…there was no energy in her fingers as they brushed Jason’s tuxedo jacket. “What—I don’t—”

She could feel the fury radiating from him, but Jason’s touch was gentle as he put a hand under her elbow and led her to the sofa. Helped her to sit.

He took her wrist in his and laid two fingers against her skin. “Your pupils are dilated,” Jason told her. “Your pulse is ragged. What did you eat or drink tonight?”

Elizabeth stared at him. Shook her head. “N-No—”

“Leave my wife alone,” Ric growled, but he couldn’t quite break free of Sonny’s grip.

“I had—what’s going on? Did-did you say something about Carly?” Elizabeth said, drawing her wrist from Jason’s grip. “Is she okay?”

“She’s missing,” Sonny said flatly. “And Michael saw Ric take her. _Where is she_?” he demanded, digging his hands in more tightly. Ric gasped.

“He was—” Elizabeth forced herself to think. “He was here. I think. I don’t know—” Why did her tongue feel so heavy?

“Elizabeth. He drugged you.”

“Call the cops, Elizabeth,” Ric choked out.

Elizabeth turned to look at him. At the man who had fathered her child. Whom she had promised to love, honor, and cherish.

Had he drugged her tonight? Had he drugged her before? Is that why this sensation felt so…familiar?

“I need you to tell me what happened tonight.”

She turned her head back to that familiar voice. That gentle, beloved tone in Jason’s voice that he adopted when he spoke to her. Tears slid down her cheeks. She missed his voice. The way he said her name. Had he said it tonight? Yes. Yes. She remembered that.

“I don’t know,” she managed to say. “I can’t—I came home at six. I was at the studio. I—I don’t—We had champagne…” Elizabeth looked at the table, but the glasses were gone. The champagne was gone. Like it had never happened. “Didn’t we?”

“No,” Ric said, as Sonny finally released him. “No, we didn’t. Elizabeth, you came home and went upstairs to sleep. You’ve been sleeping _so_ much since we lost the baby.”

The baby. God. She closed her eyes. Her baby. Her little shining ray of light in the darkness.

“Shut up,” Sonny growled.

She had been sleeping a lot, Elizabeth thought. Or no, wait. No, she hadn’t. She never slept. Did she? Why couldn’t she _remember_?

“I—” Elizabeth looked at Jason. “I don’t know. Maybe—maybe I took a nap. I don’t know.”

“Michael said he took Carly. Was Ric gone?” Jason asked.

“I’ve been here the whole goddamn time. Tell him, Elizabeth. You woke up at seven and I was here. You took a shower—”

“I—” Elizabeth’s voice faltered. “Maybe.”

“Damn it, we’re not going to get anything from her,” Sonny growled. “Whatever he gave her is screwing with her memory. I’ll take him to the warehouse. Jase, you take her to the penthouse. Get her some rest. Some coffee. I don’t know. Call Bobbie—”

And then the door was open again, and two women clad in evening gowns rushed in. “Courtney called the PCPD,” Emily said in a rush.

“Where’s my daughter?” Bobbie cried as she pushed past Emily and started for Sonny and Ric. Jason sprang off the sofa and intercepted her, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding back.

Emily sat next to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said slowly, drawing out her words. “Am I?” she asked, twisting her head to look at Jason. Jason would know. Jason would protect her.

“He gave her something,” Jason bit out. “What did you say about Courtney?”

Bobbie pushed herself away from Jason’s grip. “I tried to stop her, but she called the cops.”

“My sister did _what_?” Sonny demanded.

“Called the authorities,” Marcus Taggert said as he and Andy Capelli swaggered into the room. Behind him, a shorter dark-haired uniformed officer entered, his expression aggravated. “When someone is missing, the first few hours are crucial, Corinthos.”

Sonny closed his eyes, and Jason scowled.

“These people are trespassing,” Ric snarled. “I want them out of here—”

“No—” Elizabeth managed. She stood. Shook her head. “No. They’re not. They—” She closed her eyes, and Emily rose, putting an arm around her waist to steady her.

“What happened to her?” Capelli demanded of Sonny. “Did you terrify her into a nervous breakdown?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Bobbie muttered.

“They’re not trespassing,” Elizabeth said. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. Everyone was so angry. So afraid. “They—they’re looking for Carly. And—they should look. You should all look.”

“Elizabeth—” Ric said with a devastated look in his eyes, in his words. “You don’t believe I would—”

“They have to look,” she repeated. “Or they won’t know for sure. They have to know for sure—”

“We have your permission, Elizabeth?” Taggert asked. He approached her. “You’re sure—”

“You don’t have mine!”

“We just need yours, Elizabeth. And exigent circumstances will take care of any gray areas.”

She latched onto that. She could do this for Jason and Sonny. Carly was missing. Carly was important to them. She knew how much Jason loved Carly.

“You can look.”

“Damn it,” Ric growled. “You should get a warrant—”

“Got something to hide?” Sonny demanded.

“No, but—”

“Rodriguez, make sure Corinthos and Morgan stay right here. Lansing, you come with us. We’re going to search this house from top to bottom,” Taggert said. To Jason, he growled, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jason muttered.

When the trio had disappeared into the back of the house where the basement door and back stairs was located, Jason released Bobbie, and turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “Bobbie, Ric gave her something. Her pulse isn’t right—”

Bobbie hustled over to Elizabeth, repeating Jason’s earlier measurements. “Honey, you need to come to the hospital. We need to take care of you—”

“N-No.” Elizabeth shook her head. She had to stay _here_. Had to make sure the PCPD could look for Carly. If she left, Ric would stop them from looking. “I—I have to stay.”

“Elizabeth,” Emily said, with anguish. “You look like hell. Your pupils are so big I can’t even tell what color your eyes are—”

“Elizabeth, I appreciate you giving your permission for them to look,” Sonny said with a soft sigh. “But he probably already stashed her somewhere else.” He scowled at Jason. “We’re wasting our time here.”

All eyes turned to the uniform at the doorway who took a deep shaky breath. “Look, if you leave now,” he said with a sigh, “you know Taggert and Capelli are gonna just come after you. It’s better if you let them do what they want and then you’re not running from warrants, too.”

“Why is it always the _rookies_ with common sense?” Sonny muttered.

Jason ignored him, gently pulling Emily away from Elizabeth so he could take her place on the sofa. “You have to go to the hospital, Elizabeth. Please. I _need_ you to be okay. I can’t worry about you—”

“You’re not,” Elizabeth said, deliberately taking her time with her words. Couldn’t slur them. Couldn’t mess this up. “I’m…I’m okay. I, um, I haven’t—” She closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

Jason’s warm hands closed around hers, stilling them. “Elizabeth—”

“Since the baby. Haven’t been okay,” she admitted, finally saying out loud what had been locked away. “I’m not okay about that. I mean…” What did she mean? “I’ll see someone. But this—”

“Elizabeth,” Emily muttered. “For God’s sakes, Jason, don’t _argue_ with her. Make her go—”

“With the PCPD here?” Sonny shook his head. “Elizabeth, do you think you gotta stay so me and Jason don’t get arrested for trespassing?”

“I—” Elizabeth stared at the other man for a long moment. “I—yes. I’m here. I can let you in. The police—” She licked her lips. They were dry and cracked. How long had they been like that? “Maybe they don’t believe Michael. Maybe they won’t look very hard.”

“And if you’re here, you can let Jason and Sonny in again to look for more evidence,” Bobbie said with a shake of her head. “Elizabeth—”

“Can’t get arrested. He’s—” Elizabeth turned squinted at the uniform, who was trying to pretend he was anywhere else. “He’s right. You can’t find Carly if you—”

“That is not your job,” Jason began. “It’s mine—”

“My fault.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure how, but it _had_ to be. Ric was hers. She had promised herself to him. Chosen him.

“No—”

“Elizabeth, do you believe Michael?” Sonny said, his voice tight. “Do you think Ric is involved?”

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t. If it was true, oh God, what had she done?

“Please come with me,” Emily begged, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Please don’t stay here. It’s not worth it. Jason and Sonny—” She got to her feet, went to the uniform. “You’re new, right? Do you know Lucky Spencer?”

“I—” The uniform nodded. “Yeah, we’re friends—”

“Then you need to listen to me. My brother is going to get Elizabeth out of here. And you have to help—”

“I can’t—” the cop shook his head. “I can’t let him leave—”

“Then, Jason, you have to come back—”

“Elizabeth is right,” Sonny muttered. “Even if she’s drugged out of her goddamn head, she’s _right_.” He scrubbed his hands over her face. “Taggert and Capelli are just looking for Carly. They’re not going to tear the house apart. But Elizabeth being here means _we_ can. Jason—”

Elizabeth nodded, relieved that someone understood. “You can come back. If Ric did it, you need to know for sure. You can’t waste your time. I can’t go.”

She had to stay. Had to make it right. Her head started to swim, and she pressed a hand to her eyes. “Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Jason growled. “I’ll come back with or without permission. She’s not staying here another minute—” He started to get up, but Elizabeth’s other hand shot out, took his hand.

“I can do this. I’m—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think I might be sick.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, and her stomach started to settle. “But I told you. I wasn’t lying. I haven’t felt well in weeks. I’ll go see a doctor. But Carly’s missing. And she’s pregnant.”

Her head was starting to clear. She could finally feel herself coming back. Elizabeth rose to her feet and saw Jason’s expression as he also stood up. The anguish. The fear.

And the knowledge that some of that was for her—that it wasn’t just because of Carly—that filled something in her. An empty piece of her soul that she hadn’t even realized was missing.

“ _This_ is the way I can help,” she said softly. Meeting his eyes. Looking at him the way she used to, begging him to believe her. To _know_ her again.

His eyes softened. “ _Don’t_ ask me to leave you here—”

“You can’t make me go. You know I’m stubborn. I promise. I—I’ll go talk to a doctor or something. But right now, you need me here.” She looked to Bobbie. “I can be more useful here. Let me help.”

Jason pressed his lips together, shook his head. “No—”

But he was cut off when the police returned with a smug Ric. “Now that you’ve looked in all the rooms,” her husband said as he wisely stopped at the doorway, scowling at how close Jason was standing to her. “You can all get the hell out of my house—”

Elizabeth took a step back, relieved when her balance held. “I let you look,” she said, hardening her voice. She kept walking back, away from their worried expressions. “She’s not here. Ric didn’t do this, okay? He wouldn’t hurt Carly.”

“See?” Ric said with a lift of his chin. “You tried to make her turn against me, but Elizabeth loves _me_ , Morgan. Not you.”

Jason swallowed, looked at Sonny. “Let’s go,” he said.

He stalked towards the doorway and out to the porch.

“Don’t think this clears you,” Taggert said with a jab of his finger. “Just because she’s not in here, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’ve been home all night,” Ric retorted.

“Elizabeth, please—” Emily said, anguished. But Bobbie took her arm and led her from the room.

“Corinthos,” Taggart said. “Let’s go. We need to go down to the station.”

Sonny shook his head, but left the living room, following Taggert out the door. The uniform looked back at Elizabeth once more before closing the door behind him, leaving her alone with her husband.

**Lansing Home:  Front Lawn**

Jason wanted to put his fist though the goddamn wall. Why the hell had Courtney called the fucking police? If Taggert and Capelli hadn’t shown up, Ric would be somewhere being tortured for what he knew, and Elizabeth—

Elizabeth would be safe.

He had seen her swaying, her pale face, her dilated pupils, listened as she tried to think. Tried to understand what was happening around her. And the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had felt like this didn’t really make him feel better.

It just meant that the fucking monster had been drugging her for _weeks_.

When that asshole had brought up her miscarriage, Jason had watched her crumble inside and admit that she wasn’t okay. He’d wanted to take her away, to tell everyone else to go to hell, Elizabeth had to be safe.

But then she’d been there at the end, her head had cleared enough for her to give him that _look_. She wasn’t asking to stay because she didn’t understand what was happening.

No, Elizabeth had done what she always did—took the weight of the world on her own shoulders. Blamed herself for Carly’s kidnapping. Made it _her_ problem to fix.

“Jason,” Bobbie said with tears in her eyes. “I am so sorry, I tried—”

“I’m going back there,” his sister hissed as she left the house, joining them on the front step. “As soon as Taggert lets us go, I’m going to drag her out of here by her hair, and then _you’re_ going to lock her somewhere until she stops being so goddamn hard headed—”

“Right now, she thinks she’s helping. She’s upset. She’s not thinking clearly.” Jason swallowed. And if the PCPD hadn’t been there, he could have done more. She would have come with him willingly before they arrived. Before she understood Carly was missing.

“Are you going to meet us at the station?” Taggert demanded as he joined the group and the front door closed. “Or do we have to take you in the patrol car?”

“I should stay here,” the uniform said. Capelli turned to glare at him. “I mean, the witness saw Lansing. If he leaves the house—”

“That’s a good idea,” Taggert said before Capelli could snarl at the uniform. “Good clear thinking, Rodriguez.” He looked at Morgan. “I saw her, too, Morgan. He’s guilty as fuck.”

“Taggert,” Capelli began.

“He did it. I don’t know how, but she consented to a search which gave us nothing. She refused medical treatment, didn’t she?” he asked Bobbie. Bobbie sighed, and Emily just folded her arms with a scowl. Taggert nodded. “Exactly. We don’t have a lot of options. Rodriguez, you stay here until the end of shift—we’ll bring someone to relieve you—”

“I’m fine. I’ll work a double. I’ll stay all night if I have to.” Rodriguez lifted his chin. “I—I didn’t like how she looked, sir. If she changes her mind—”

“A patrol car should be right outside.” Taggert nodded. “Okay. Let’s get down to the station and figure out what’s next.”

Jason met the rookie’s eyes and, for the first time in his known life, felt a rush of gratitude for a cop. He’d listened to them. He knew Elizabeth’s condition. And the kid was going to stay.

And as soon as Taggert let him go, Jason was coming right back here to force her to go. He just had to pray she would be okay until then.

**Lansing Home: Living Room**

Her shoulders slumped when the door closed, and she looked at Ric. “Why did he say those things?”

“What?” Ric said, with wide eyes. “You know I didn’t take Carly. I’ve been here—”

“About my pulse. My pupils.” Elizabeth went to the mirror over the fireplace mantel and scowled. She couldn’t tell now, but she didn’t doubt Jason for a moment. Still… “My eyes look okay—”

“He was lying to you,” Ric said gently. He moved behind her, put his hand around her shoulders, gently rubbing. “Trying to get you to leave me. You stayed. You believed in me.”

He leaned down, brushed his lips against her neck, and it took everything in her not to flinch. Not to move away.

Because she _didn’t_ believe Ric. She believed Michael. She believed Jason. And she knew…she knew something wasn’t right about tonight. It wasn’t the first time she had felt so fuzzy, so tired, and weak. She’d thought it was from the fall. The recovery. The deep sadness inside.

But maybe…

She had a job to do. She turned and managed a weak smile. “He was scared. Carly’s missing. And Michael probably saw something in the dark that looked like you. Poor kid. He must be terrified.”

Ric nodded. “But the PCPD are involved, and you were right to let them search. I’m sorry I was so angry—”

“Well, now they know she’s not here.” She forced herself to kiss his cheek. “They can look for her somewhere else. I’m still not feeling well—I think I’m just going to go upstairs. Get some sleep.” She hesitated. “I’m going to sleep in the other room, though.”

“Elizabeth, I thought—”

“I’m just feeling sick to my stomach a-and you know I haven’t been sleeping well. You said you were getting up early to look for office space, right? I don’t want—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. She could do this. “You need your rest.”

“Okay,” Ric said, with a tilt of his head. “If you’re sure.”

“Very sure. Good night, babe.”

She kept the smile on her face as she turned away, as she climbed the stairs, and went into the second room. She wouldn’t sleep, but at least…she wouldn’t feel obligated to let him touch her again.

Not tonight.


	4. Chapter Four

_When I pretend_  
 _Everything is what I want it to be_  
 _I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see_  
 _When I pretend_  
 _I can forget about the criminal I am_  
 _Stealing second after second just cause I know I can, but_  
 _I can't pretend this is the way it will stay, I'm just_  
 _Trying to bend the truth_  
 _I can't pretend I'm who you want me to be_  
 _So I'm_  
 _Lying my way from you_  
\- Lying From You, Linkin Park

* * *

_Saturday, June 20, 2003_

**Brownstone: Foyer**

Bobbie kicked off her heels almost as soon as she walked through her front door and frowned when she saw the light filtering out from the living room and voices.

“What are you doing up?” she demanded as she crossed the threshold. “It’s after three—Lucky?”

Her nephew rose from the sofa where he had been sitting next to his sister. In the armchair under the window, Lucas sipped from a bright orange mug with the General Hospital logo. In her bewildered fatigue, Bobbie wondered when her son had started to drink coffee.

“Lu called me around midnight when you didn’t come back.” Lucky slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I had already heard some rumors, so I called the station and they told me you were in interrogation.”

“What’s the deal?” Lucas demanded. “Monica told us the wedding was off and we should all go home. But Lucky says Carly is missing, and you were with the police.”

Bobbie hesitated, looked at Lucky. “What do you know?”

“Cruz Rodriguez is a friend of mine from the academy,” Lucky explained. “He was the uniform that went to the house.” His face was lined with worry. “He said that Ric Lansing is the primary suspect in Carly’s kidnapping, that Taggert and Capelli think Lansing drugged Elizabeth—” He shook his head. “What’s going on, Aunt Bobbie?”

Bobbie sighed and sat next to Lulu. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “They questioned me for hours but there was nothing to tell them. When we got to the house, Jason was checking Elizabeth’s pulse. Something is definitely wrong, but she refused to leave.”

“Yeah, Cruz said he was going to take the overnight shift in case she changed her mind.” Lucky hesitated. “I called in, offered to take tomorrow’s shift but Taggert doesn’t want me on the case. Dad’s partnership with Sonny and my relationship with Elizabeth—” His mouth pinched. “They’re going to keep me out of it, I know it.”

“Jason said he’s going to go back when they let him and Sonny go, but—”

Lucky shook his head. “They’re going to hold them until a lawyer forces their hand.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Why the hell would Lansing do this?”

“He hates Sonny,” Lulu offered. They all looked at her, frowning, and she just shrugged. “What? I hear stuff. I’m working at Kelly’s with Georgie, and Courtney came in after they found out about Sonny and Ric being brothers.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Lots of people hate Sonny—”

“Lansing accused Sonny of pushing Elizabeth when she had her miscarriage,” Lucky said. “I was signing paperwork for human resources when he came in, demanding an investigation. No evidence she was pushed, and Elizabeth refused to say anything on the record, so nothing happened.”

Bobbie closed her eyes. “God. I can’t. I don’t know where she is. Or how he could have—it was less than thirty minutes between Carly going missing and Jason and Sonny going to the house. They searched the house. Where could he have taken her?”

“Maybe he had help,” Lucas suggested. “Mom. Hey.” Bobbie looked up. Met her son’s eyes. “She’s _never_ going to be my favorite person, but you love her. Carly’s too stubborn to go out like this. She’s going to fight tooth and nail, so we have to do what we can here.”

“Yeah, Aunt Bobbie.” Lulu stood and pulled Bobbie up. “We’ve been in these uncomfortable dresses for hours. Why don’t we go get into something more comfortable. Maybe get something to eat.”

“Try to sleep, Aunt Bobbie.” Lucky embraced her tightly. “You need to keep your strength up.”

Bobbie just sighed, shook her head. She was too exhausted, too terrified to argue, and allowed her niece to lead her out of the room.

Once he heard his aunt’s bedroom door close, Lucky released a long breath, and looked back to Lucas. “She’s too tired to think it through, but—”

“Lansing kidnapped a pregnant woman,” Lucas said with a shrug. “The wife of a man he already hated. The man he blames for the loss of his child. Yeah, I’m not an idiot, Lucky. I’ve seen this movie.” He shook his head. “I don’t like my sister, but I’m human. And this is…”

“Horrifying,” Lucky murmured. He and Elizabeth were no longer close…and the intimacy and passion he’d once felt for her had been all but destroyed by Helena Cassadine’s last brainwashing, but he objectively knew she’d been important to him. That she remained important to Emily and Nikolas.

That she had stayed, kept herself in danger…that she might have been drugged by the man who was supposed to take care of her…

“I’m going to try to keep my hand in,” Lucky said. “Take care of your mom. I’ll call when I know something.”

**Harborview Towers: Parking Garage**

Sonny scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at the head of security with disgust. “ _What?_ ”

Francis Corelli winced at the scathing anger in his boss’s face. “The PCPD is searching both penthouses as we speak. We tried to keep them out but—”

“How the _hell_ could they get a search warrant so fast?” Jason demanded.

They had been kept at the PCPD until dawn broke over the city and an exhausted Mac Scorpio had told Taggert and Capelli to let them loose. They had gone back to the Lansing home where a bleary-eyed Cruz Rodriguez still sat in a patrol car at the curb. No sounds from inside the house, and Ric hadn’t left.

Neither had Elizabeth.

With Rodriguez standing guard, Jason could hardly storm the house, pick Elizabeth up, and carry her out if she didn’t cooperate. Not without getting tossed into a jail cell, and that wouldn’t solve anything.

But he would get her out of the damn house today if it killed him.

Francis hesitated, and Sonny glared at him. “Answer the goddamn question. Did you _see_ the fucking warrants?”

And then Jason knew why the other man looked so uncomfortable. He closed his eyes. “Courtney let them in.”

“Yeah,” Francis admitted. “I tried to keep them out of your place, Sonny, but she told Taggert she’d been staying there off and on—and her legal residence _is_ your place, Jason—”

“And it’s not like the PCPD is going to argue with someone just letting them in,” Sonny muttered. “Did we not go over the rules with her? She called the police and we wasted hours—” He growled. “They’re not going to stop with the penthouses.”

“They’re probably trying to get warrants for the warehouse. For the other properties—”

“Damn it,” Sonny swore. “We haven’t replaced Benny or found a lawyer—” He clenched his fists. “My wife is missing. That sociopath has her somewhere and every time I turn around, my own fucking family is helping the police fuck me over—”

“I’ll find Carly,” Jason said, his voice tight. “You deal with the police. Get someone in here to look at the books. Get a lawyer on retainer. You keep the PCPD out of my face. I—” He took a deep breath. “Elizabeth offered to help us with Ric. If she’s still willing today when whatever he gave her wears off, I’ll have to let her. Because he did this, Sonny. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but he’s behind this.”

“Yeah.” Sonny exhaled slowly. “Where is my sister?” he bit out to Francis. “Helping the goddamn police go through our things?”

“She’s supervising, yeah,” Francis said with another wince.

“We’d better get upstairs and revoke permission for this fucking search.” Sonny shook his head. “I _knew_ she wasn’t cut out for any of this.”

Jason ignored him as they got onto the elevator, but he knew his partner was right. He had intended to marry Courtney because he cared about her and because she understood his life.

But in the last twelve hours, she proved definitely that understanding his life and actively _supporting_ that life were very different.

**Lansing Home: Kitchen**

Ric watched as Elizabeth pushed her fork around her plate, gently moving the pieces of her Eggs Benedict from one side to the other.

She had hadn’t much of an appetite in weeks—he knew that. It had been suppressed by the Valium he slipped into her meals and drinks. She rarely ate, rarely slept, and spent most of her time in that run-down studio. His jaw clenched at the thought she preferred that fire trap to the beautiful home he’d given her, but Ric forced himself to relax.

Elizabeth was just…she was grieving over their loss, just as he was. They were just handling it in different ways. He was going to get justice and give her a baby to raise, and she was just trying to survive.

They could start trying for a baby—or at least pretending—Ric told himself—in another few weeks. It took time to make sure the birth control he’d begun to give her was working effectively—and she still needed time to recover, her doctor had told them that.

And in a few months, when there was no baby, Ric could gently talk to her about adoption. She’d be ready for a baby when Carly was due in November. He would have laid the foundation.

It really _was_ the perfect solution—Elizabeth wouldn’t even have to get pregnant and carry a child. It was better for them, and maybe they would always adopt. If he got a vasectomy, surely, Elizabeth would never question their lack of conception.

She’d blame herself, Ric knew that. He was counting on it. She would want to fix it and would never argue with his solution. But this morning, as Ric watched her barely eat anything, as she only drank half her orange juice—he worried that it was more than just her appetite keeping her from eating the food he prepared.

“You believed him,” he said without thinking. “You’re not eating.” He forced a hurt tone into his voice to mask his fury. _How dare she believe Jason Morgan instead of him?_ “You think I’m trying to drug you.”

“What?” Elizabeth blinked at him, her eyes a bit tired. Shadowed. The circles were deep grooves beneath her eyes, a sickly dark purple. “What? N-No.” She swallowed hard. “No, of course—I just—” Her eyes filled, and she bowed her head. “They made me remember the baby.”

Oh. Of course. His angel. Ric sat next to her, touched her shoulder and if she flinched, he told himself it because she was so upset. That he had upset her by making her think about the baby again. “They’ll find Carly. Sonny has so many enemies, they probably just started with the last known conflict.”

Elizabeth nodded. She picked up her fork and ate a bite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I-I should eat more.” She reached for her orange juice, took a long swig.

Ric grimaced—this was going to backfire. She was trying so hard to convince him now—she quickly finished the orange juice and most of her breakfast.  Which meant she’d gotten double the dosage of the birth control he’d meant to give her—and he’d already doubled it up in case she only drank or ate one or the other. Not to mention the six pills of Valium he’d slipped into various elements of her breakfast. On top of the dosage from the night before…

He rolled his shoulders. Well, it was just once. He wouldn’t guilt her about eating again—clearly, she hadn’t believed Jason and Sonny. She could sleep off any bit of extra Valium at the studio—as long as he got her out of here before they kicked in.

Maybe he should offer to drive her—

“I should get going.” Elizabeth pushed herself away from the table. “I—I promised Emily—she’s going back today—and I wanted to see what happened last night. If they know anything.”

“Of course.” Uneasy, Ric watched as she left. Should he follow her to the studio? But…he had to stay here, to check on Carly—to make sure Jason and Sonny didn’t come by and search again. And…

She was gone before he’d made up his mind. He would call her later to make sure she got there, and he’d just have to be more careful in the future.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

_Nothing_ had gone the way it was supposed to.

She was supposed to be married right now—she and Jason were supposed to be leaving for a honeymoon on the island. Instead, Jason’s mother had gleefully told everyone the wedding was off—her fiancé and brother were barely speaking to her, her nephew was all but traumatized—

_And Carly was missing._

Courtney bit her nails as the last of the PCPD offices exited the penthouse. Jason and Sonny had arrived home only minutes earlier but the cops had already finished their search of the Corinthos penthouse, and were now here. Jason had tried to revoke permission, but the cops had already started their search and Capelli threatened to arrest Jason for interfering.  Without a lawyer on retainer, Jason had probably not wanted to spend any more time with at the police station.

So, Jason had waited, glowering with rage as Taggert and Capelli had finished up, then left.

Sonny was across the hall doing damage control of his own, but Courtney couldn’t understand why they were so angry. They didn’t keep anything worthwhile at the penthouse, and if it helped them find Carly faster, what was the issue? Wasn’t _that_ the goal?

If Ric had taken Carly, shouldn’t that come above all this other crap?

Jason slammed the door shut behind the cops and turned back to face her, his hair mussed, the tie of his tux undone, dangling against the creased white of his shirt. The jacket had long ago been discarded.

“You called the cops,” he said in a low, even tone. “Why?”

“Why?” Courtney stared at him. “Ric kidnapped her—of _course_ I called them. Ric wasn’t going to let you in the house to search—the cops could make him—”

Jason laughed then, but it was a sour, angry sound that she had never ever heard from him before. A chill slithered down her spine. She hurried to continue. To explain. If he would only try to understand how scared and desperate she’d been. “I had to let them in here—they said getting warrants would just make them think we did something to Carly, and it was a waste of time—”

“I was _so_ close to getting her out of there,” Jason murmured, shaking his head. “Five more minutes, we could have taken care of Ric, I could have gotten Elizabeth to go with Bobbie to the hospital—and we could have torn that house apart.”

Courtney scowled at the mention of Jason’s ex-girlfriend. “You’re more worried about _her_ , aren’t you?” she demanded. “Carly wasn’t at the house—you heard the cops—”

“How hard do you think Taggert and Cappelli looked?” Jason demanded. “They didn’t think he had enough time—”

“He didn’t.” Courtney huffed. “Maybe Michael was wrong. He’s only a little boy, you know. Maybe the guy just _looked_ like Ric. Maybe it was someone else who hates you.” There had to be a long goddamn list of people Jason and Sonny had pissed off.

“I thought you understood,” Jason said with another shake of his head. “There are no circumstances, ever, that we cooperate with the police. _Not_ as a first resort, and we sure as hell don’t call them in when we haven’t secured the scene—”

“Listen to yourself,” Courtney scoffed. “ _Secured the scene_. Who the hell do you think you are? My best friend is missing—”

“ _You know who the hell I am_!” Jason shot back, his face red. “You know who your brother is.” He jabbed a finger at her. “What the hell did you think all this was about? Did you think it was a game?”

“Carly’s missing, so it’s _hardly_ a game,” Courtney snarled. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “And you’re just wasting time. You should be finding Carly.”

“I wish I could _only_ worry about finding Carly, but now I gotta make sure our business papers are in order because I can’t do a hell of a lot if Sonny and I are fighting off warrants and raids.” He shook his head with a sharp jerk. “I’m getting changed. _Don’t_ let them in again.”

“This is my home, too,” Courtney said. “You don’t have a right to tell me—”

Jason glared at her as he started up the stairs. “My name is on the lease. You’re a guest. I pay for everything. You let the cops in again, Courtney, and that’s it.”

Tears burned her eyes. “That’s the deal breaker? You said you _loved_ me.”

He turned to face her, and the expression almost had her take an actual step back. “You know who I am. You said you could handle it. Maybe you’d better think about _that_. I got things that have to get done.”

“Damn it, Jason—” She almost followed him, but she was terrified that he was perilously close to just throwing her out entirely. Maybe she’d been wrong, but why wasn’t he even _trying_ to see it from her side?

She was terrified—she just wanted to find Carly like the rest of them. She had to do whatever she believed was right, no matter what the cost.

She and Jason—they would just sort it out after it was over.

**PCPD: Locker Room**

Lucky took a seat next to to Cruz who was staring blankly at his open locker. “You look like hell, man.”

“Yeah.” Cruz rolled his shoulders, nodded to Dante to sat on his other side. “I just got off—I sat in front of the Lansing house until about—” He looked at his watch, then dragged a hand through his hair. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah? Why?” Dante frowned. “I thought the overnight report said there was nothing at the house.”

“Something’s not right,” Cruz insisted. “I got there last night, and Corinthos and Morgan are there—but they’re not tearing the house apart. They’re with Lansing and his wife.”

“You said Elizabeth looked like she’d been drugged,” Lucky said quietly. “How did you—”

“She looks a bit spacey, like maybe she’s high.” Cruz exhaled slowly. “Morgan’s sister, the mother-in-law—I guess that’s your aunt. They’re there. And they’re _begging_ the wife to leave, but she’s refusing. And there’s this weird tension in the air. If Morgan wasn’t in a tux, if we literally weren’t only allowed in the house because she’s married to the asshole—there’s just something…Morgan wanted her out of the house. He came back today.” He managed a half smile. “And I gave him a report. I’m sure Taggert will cut off my balls if he finds out.”

“Jason and Elizabeth used to kind of date,” Lucky said. “Or something. I don’t know. It’s…it’s complicated.” And it brought him back to all the swiss cheese holes in his memory. He knew that there had been a romantic past for Jason and Elizabeth the same way he knew he’d once been engaged to Elizabeth.

But the memories were mostly gone and so were the emotions.

“Well, that explains it. Maybe both their marriages were just rebounds. I bet Morgan never walks down the aisle with the twit who called us in.”

“Yeah, I heard Taggert and Capelli when they got back from the searches.” Dante shook his head, changed into his uniform shirt and started to button it. “She actually _let_ them search both penthouses.”

Lucky exhaled slowly. He couldn’t imagine his mother letting the PCPD just blindly search their home with Luke being part of the decision—but Laura Spencer had always had a better understanding of life and her husband’s place in the world.

“But there are no leads on Carly?” Lucky asked.

Cruz hesitated. “They really don’t want you involved, Lucky, but…” he shrugged. “No. Capelli isn’t sure Lansing did it, but I guess the wife’s condition convinced Taggert. He actually—he almost seemed to be on the same page as Morgan last night. They’re going to split the search — Capelli is going to look into all the other connections while Taggert takes on the Lansing stuff. They’re pulling his background now. I think Capelli is going to use this to go after Corinthos and Morgan. He’s trying to get warrants for the businesses.”

Dante frowned. “What is that going to prove? _This_ is the shit I’m talking about. I don’t even know these people, but just from the reports I read—it’s clear that they’re not involved. I mean, why go right to searching their properties? If Carly’s on them, they’ll find her. They don’t need the PCPD to search for them—”

“Welcome to the PCPD, where truth, justice, and the American way are just words,” Lucky said. He sighed and pinned his badge to his shirt. “I have to go watch your cousin Vinnie do a lot of nothing all day.”

“See, if you just say his name that way, at least you get to have a small laugh.”

“It keeps me from crying.”

**Elizabeth’s Studio**

Elizabeth forced her eyes open—the chirping from inside bag had jarred her from a restless sleep—and now her head hurt. Her body felt heavy as if someone was sitting on it—

Someone was at her side. Saying her name. She could feel someone’s fingers at her wrist.

“Elizabeth?”

She tried to focus, tried to find the voice. It was Jason. He sounded worried. She missed the sound of his voice, the times when he smiled. Sometimes he even laughed.

“Elizabeth?” A hand cradled her neck and she felt herself being lifted into a sitting position. The movement caused her stomach to lurch and before she could stop herself—

Elizabeth rolled on her side and threw up.  She was dimly aware of Jason edging out of the way quickly, and then dragging a trash can over for her to finish up. She kept heaving until her throat was raw, until her eyes were burning with tears, and her hands were shaking.

“You _have_ to let me take you to the hospital,” Jason told her. “He gave you something this morning—I couldn’t find your pulse—” He swallowed hard, then shook his head. He got to his feet, then crossed to the sink and wet a napkin. He gave it to her.

Elizabeth pressed it to her face. God, _everything_ hurt, and she was humiliated. Disgusted. She had just thrown up all over her floor—probably had splashed him—and she just wanted to go back to sleep.

_She just wanted to sleep._

Her eyes started to drift shut again, but Jason took her shoulder and sharply jerked. “ _Don’t_ you dare,” he snapped, fear threading in his voice, making it higher than she remembered. “Stay awake, do you hear me, Elizabeth?”

Jason wanted her to stay awake. It sounded important. And—and wasn’t there something she was supposed to be doing?

“J-Jason?” Elizabeth coughed as his name was swallowed by the rasp in her throat. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said with steel in his voice. She grimaced, shook her head, but he stood up, grabbed her purse, tossed it at her, and then lifted her into his arms. “This time, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

**General Hospital: Emergency Room**

Monica closed the curtain and stepped back out to see Jason who was pacing back and forth. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days—his hair sticking up on end, his eyes wild—and his black shirt was stained in some places. She made a mental note to offer him a scrub top to change into as she suspected the stains were from vomit.

“How is she?” Jason demanded. “I know you can’t give me—”

“She told me to tell you anything you wanted to know,” Monica murmured. “Take a deep breath, Jason.” She held his hands up. “Look at me. You got to her in time. She’d already thrown up the worst of it, and we were able to pump her stomach.” Her voice cracked as she continued to speak. “The stick was positive for benzos. There was enough—it was quadruple the recommended dose. And that’s a few hours after she ingested it.”

His eyes glinted and narrowed until the pupils were nothing more than icy flints. “Quadruple.”

“I’m doing a follicle test.” Monica crossed her arms. “I know she’s been having a rough time, but I don’t think she’s the type to mess up her medication—and I’ve checked her charts. There’s no prescription for any Valium or anything else.”

“Ric. He’s been drugging her,” Jason growled. He dipped his head. Took a deep breath. “Can you keep her?”

“She’s resting now, but she already said she wanted to be signed out. That Ric couldn’t find out she was here.” Monica chewed her lip. “I can get Social Services involved if you’re sure—she’s declined it, but I’ll—” She lifted her chin. “I’ll do it anyway.”

“If Ric knows she was here, then—” Jason closed his eyes. “Christ. I _knew_ I should have dragged her out of that house. I let her stay.”

Monica exhaled, took a chance, and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me. We need to figure out the best way to handle this.”

And it was a testament to how upset her son was that he followed her without a word. She led him into the break room and locked the door to keep anyone out. “Carly’s missing. I know that—it’s all over the news, and I talked to Bobbie and Emily. Ric is the top of the suspect list.”

“Yeah. We got to the house last night, and I found Elizabeth—not as bad as today—but she was drugged. Weaving around. She couldn’t keep herself straight. Talking in circles. But she started to come around the longer I kept her talking. She refused to leave. Because—”

“Because Ric wouldn’t let you or the cops search, but Elizabeth could give them permission.” Monica nodded. “Emily told me that when she came home. I’m aware of the situation, Jason. I know she _thinks_ she needs to go back to the house to protect Carly. I cannot in good conscience let her do it. I took an oath, and she is not in her right mind if she puts herself back into that situation.”

“You think I _like_ any of this?” Jason demanded. “Sorry,” he said immediately. He dragged his hands through his hair. “I went to talk to her today, just to figure out the next step—and she was barely breathing. I couldn’t find a pulse—I thought she was already—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I _let_ her stay in that house.”

“It appears to me that you weren’t left with a lot of choices.” Monica sighed. “If I call in Social Services or a psych consult, the odds are that she would probably just talk her way out of it. She seemed pretty adamant that she had to get back to the house to find Carly. That she could only be useful if she stayed.”

“He probably gave her too much last night to make sure she’d sleep through whatever happened,” Jason said, more to himself. “And then—I think he gave her more this morning. He probably put it in everything—she’s not eating, and—”

“If a lot of the drug was in her breakfast, she’d get some of it.” Monica nodded. “She must have eaten more than he expected.”

“Probably to convince _him_ that she didn’t believe _me_ ,” Jason muttered. “She’s going to get herself killed.” He shook his head. “He’d only give her so much and risk her leaving if her staying was against the plan. Carly. She _has_ to be in that house somewhere. It’s the only explanation.”

“I can get her ready to leave,” Monica said reluctantly. “But I’m going to have to talk to Bobbie. Between the three of us—and maybe Emily—we need to figure out how to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. We all want to find Carly, Jason, but Elizabeth has to look out for herself. Her blood counts are all over the place—she is not in a good place, and it goes against everything I believe in to let her go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Thanks.” He rubbed his eyes. “Can—Can I see her?”

“Yeah. Do you want a change of clothes—” She gestured at his shirt. “She’s feeling mortified that she threw up on you—it’s not important in the scheme of things, but I think—”

“Yeah, yeah thanks.” He met her eyes and repeated himself. “Thank you. For taking her case personally. For helping me. Elizabeth—she matters.”

“She matters to me, too, Jason,” Monica told her though her heart warmed at the gratitude in his eyes. “Since she lost Audrey—”

“Audrey?” Jason repeated. “What happened to her?”

“She passed away in January.” Monica tilted her head. “You didn’t—you didn’t know? Elizabeth was a wreck, but Ric Lansing was there for her. Helped her settle the estate. Sell the house. Stood by her side at the funeral. He was definitely in the right place at the right time.” She grimaced. “I should have kept a better eye on her for Audrey and Steve. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”

**Emergency Room: Cubicle**

Elizabeth sighed when Jason drew back the curtain and came into her examining area. Her cheeks flushed as she took in the bright blue scrub top he wore—she knew he’d changed his shirt because she’d vomited on him. God.

But her head felt clear—painfully clear—and Monica’s eyes had been sad as she’d delivered the preliminary blood results. She’d nearly died from an overdose of benzodiazepines, probably Valium. Whatever had been in her system from last night, plus whatever she’d eaten this morning—

Maybe she could have lived in denial about being drugged—but not now. There was proof. And the hair follicle test Monica had ordered would tell her just how long Ric had been poisoning her. Controlling her with drugs.

She shuddered. “Well. You were right.” Elizabeth closed her eyes as Jason came closer. “But you’re too nice to say so.”

“You’re _not_ going back. We’ll figure out something else—”

“She’s in that house,” Elizabeth said flatly. “There’s no other reason he drugged me last night. He tried to confuse me. First, he told me I had barely dozed off, and then apparently, I came home and slept—but I _know_ I came home at six. Carly only went missing around seven.”

“He didn’t have enough time to take her anywhere else.” Jason nodded. “Okay. So, she’s in the house. I don’t need you to be there—”

“You need me in that house. Because you can search his papers. You can know what he’s doing at all hours. I’ll let you put electronics in there. I’ll let you gut the fucking place to get her out—” Her voice broke. “You know why he kidnapped _Carly_ , Jason. She’s pregnant.”

Jason shook his head. “We don’t know that—”

“He blamed Sonny for the miscarriage. He wanted the PCPD to arrest him for assault, for pushing me—Sonny would never do that, I told him that—but he was so angry, I was afraid of what would happen. It was all crushing down around me, you know, and I just knew something bad was going to happen—” Elizabeth forced herself to continue. “And then he came home with this house. It was a surprise. It was a new start. And that’s—I think the follicle test is going to tell you that I’ve been drugged for at least month. Because there’s a lot about this last month—I’ve got some holes. I thought I was sleeping too much—”

“Elizabeth—”

“He kidnapped Carly because she’s pregnant. I think he wants Sonny to suffer like we did when we lost the baby, but I just—it’s about that baby, Jason. We need to find Carly.”

He took her hand in his. “I know that,” Jason told her, his eyes locked on hers. “But I’m not going to let you kill yourself to do it—”

“You can’t stop me,” Elizabeth said. “You’ll have to tie me up and lock me away. Go tell your mother that I’m crazy and suicidal. She’s already halfway there. But you c _an’t_ stop me.”

“Carly’s already—I don’t know where she is,” Jason said, with a slight crack in his voice. “And about an hour ago, I found you without a pulse—I am _not_ going to take any chances with your life.”

“It’s not your chance to take,” she said softly. She covered his hand with hers so that his larger hand was enveloped in both of hers. “I don’t have a death wish, Jason. I know Ric is poisoning me. He’s feeding me Valium to keep me under control. To keep me fuzzy and from asking questions. So that’s what I’ll give him. I’ll be the perfect wife.” She swallowed hard. “Whatever I have to do. I’ll find something to lead us to Carly. She’s in the house or there’s some sort of clue that will give us the answers.”

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “You don’t eat any or drink anything he gives you, do you understand me?” he told her. “ _Promise me_.”

“I promise I’ll try,” Elizabeth said. “I—I may have to, sometimes. But I won’t eat or drink a lot. I promise. This won’t last long. We’ll find her, Jason. And then you can help me find a divorce attorney.” She managed a wisp of a smile. “Unless I somehow become a widow.”

Jason shook his head slightly at her small attempt at humor. “I’m going to get you a cell phone. You use that phone and you check in every goddamn hour. If you can’t get a hold of me, you can call Monica or Bobbie. I’m going to talk Emily into going back to California. Ric will never believe this if she’s still here.” He stared at her, his eyes burning with exhaustion, fear, worry— “Promise me. You’ll check in.”

“I promise.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Go tell Monica I need to get out of here. Ric is expecting me back.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but mercifully he didn’t. She wasn’t sure she had the energy for another go around. If he kept looking at her—kept making her think of everything she’d thrown away last year—

She might not be able to do what needed to be done.


	5. Chapter Five

_'Cause you play me like a symphony_  
 _Play me till your fingers bleed_  
 _I'm your greatest masterpiece_  
 _You ruin me_  
 _Later when the curtains drawn_  
 _And no one's there for you back home_  
 _Don't cry to me you played me wrong_  
 _You ruin me_  
\- You Ruin Me, The Veronicas

* * *

_Saturday, June 20, 2003_

**Quartermaine Mansion: Garden**

“I’m going back to California,” Emily told Elizabeth, “but _only_ because Jason told me to.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “But I want you to come with me. You can make your excuses to Ric, but _please_ —”

Elizabeth sighed, pressed a hand to her aching head. Jason had taken her back to the studio and reluctantly left her alone, promising the burner cell phone would be delivered in a few hours. She’d decided to make her goodbyes to Emily while waiting for the phone to arrive.

She had promised Jason she would not go home until she had that phone—until he had a way to contact her.

She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around anything that happened to her in the last twenty-four hours—knowing that she had overdosed and nearly died only hours earlier or that it had been at the hands of the man she’d married and nearly had a child with—a man who had kidnapped a pregnant woman—and God, had done so many things, because of _cours_ e Ric was guilty of all the crimes Jason and Sonny had cast at his feet.

Elizabeth couldn’t remember any of the objections she’d made in defense of Ric now or explain how she lied to herself for so long.

“If you talked to Jason,” Elizabeth began slowly, stirring her iced tea restlessly. She _should_ eat before she went home, but she couldn’t find the desire to put anything in her stomach—not after having had it pumped. She closed her eyes. “If you talked to Jason,” she tried again, “then you know why you have to go _and_ why I have to stay.”

Emily scowled. “ _He_ doesn’t want you to stay either, Liz. I have his permission to try and convince you differently, and if he were anybody else but Jason, he would put you on the plane himself. You’re not thinking clearly.” Her eyes softened. “I’m so scared about what will happen if you don’t leave.”

“And I’m scared about what happens if I do.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled, and she fought to keep it even. “The police are watching Jason and Sonny. I—I heard people talking at the hospital while I was waiting to get out. They searched the penthouses. The PCPD isn’t looking for Carly like Jason and Sonny can. Taggert and Capelli are going after _them_. Jason won’t be able to just—do what needs to be done. I have to help—”

“And how does staying in the house do that?” Emily challenged.

“Jason is going to come back and search as soon as I can get Ric out of the house,” Elizabeth told her. “He’s going to set up surveillance and electronics and whatever else he can. But—” She chewed her bottom lip. “If Ric caught him in the house—Taggert will arrest him and you know he’ll get stuck in jail. I can give permission. I can help—”

“ _I’m_ worried about Carly, too,” Emily said. “But you matter more to me. And I know how your brain thinks—you’re blaming yourself. If you hadn’t lost the baby—”

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut. God. If she hadn’t lost the baby, she’d be trapped now even more. There’d be no way out. No one to help. And just the small sliver of relief that had crawled into her heart at _not_ being tied to Ric Lansing through a child made her feel so goddamn disgusted with herself.

“Don’t sacrifice yourself because you think no one cares,” Emily said quietly, her dark eyes burning into Elizabeth’s. “ _I care_. You are my best friend. Bobbie cares. My mother cares. Nikolas cares. There are people who love you, Elizabeth.”

And where had _any_ of them been last year? When she’d been drowning after the kidnapping and the crypt? When she had learned her grandmother had died, when she’d been left with an estate to settle, family to grieve. No one had come home to be with her. No one had come to the memorial with her. Held her hand. Held her as she sobbed.

Gram’s friends had sat through the service, but most had made excuses not to go to the reception Elizabeth had tried to arrange at the Port Charles Hotel or had left as quickly as they’d arrived.

Only Ric had showed up. Only Ric had sat beside her. Only Ric had cared.

Of course, _that_ had been a gigantic lie—he’d been using her from the first moment he’d met her. Had only sought her out because she was connected to Jason and Sonny. Joke was on him, she thought bitterly. She didn’t matter to them either.

But Emily looked upset, so Elizabeth sighed. This would pass. Emily would worry, they would find Carly, and then it would go back to the way it had been for the last few years. Two ships passing in the night.

“I’m not _trying_ to get myself killed,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “I’m just trying to help the best way I can. I can’t fight the feeling that there’s something in the house—Ric didn’t want them to search. He wasn’t gone that long. There’s something there.”

“Okay.” Emily lifted a shoulder. “Okay. I know that face. I know better than to argue because now I’m just wasting breath. Jason said you promised to keep in contact with him. You’ll do that, right?”

Sure. Jason worried about her. He was a good person, but hadn’t he given in, too? Hadn’t he stopped arguing? Everyone knew Elizabeth was right. Ric was _her_ problem to fix, Carly was her fault. And the only way Elizabeth could be of use to anyone was to stay in the house and make sure they could find Carly.

“I promise, Emily.” Elizabeth raised the glass of iced tea to her lips and let the cool liquid slide down her throat. Her throat was raw from the morning, and the tea settled uncomfortably in her empty stomach.  “And you’ll be home in a few months anyway—”

“I guess.” Emily sighed. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here but getting into the internship at GH in the fall—it only works if I finish this program.”

“All you could do here is hold my hand, and I’d rather you were doing something that matters. You’re going to be a doctor, Em. I’m _so_ proud of you.”

“Well, we’ll celebrate when I come home in August.” Emily bit her lip. “Liz, if you change your mind—you just go to the airport. You call me, and I’ll have a ticket waiting. Don’t let that get in your way.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly and forced a smile on her face. “Don’t worry. I—I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing.”

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Taggert scowled as he sifted through the paperwork and photographs they’d taken from Harborview Towers that morning. He had finally gotten the chance to get inside the inner sanctum of the Corinthos Organization and what did he have to show for it?

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Just a bunch of paperwork about coffee exporting.

He looked over as the rookie assigned to his squad came out of the locker room area, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue. “Rodriguez, you’re supposed to be at the Lansing house.”

Cruz furrowed his brow and joined Taggert at his desk. “What do you mean? I was. I spent the night outside and then left when my shift was over. I told Capelli—he said you’d send over another uniform—”

“ _Goddamn it_.” Taggert lunged out of his seat and towards the roster schedule. “Capelli!” That goddamn idiot—no one had called in for a new patrol and the Lansing house had been left unsecured for almost—he glanced at his watch—eight fucking hours. It was already four in the afternoon—

Did he have to do _everything_ around here?

“What’s your problem?” Capelli said, sauntering in from the break room, a cup of coffee in his hand. “You need to get some sleep—”

“Why the hell didn’t you send another uniform over to the Lansing place?” Taggert demanded.

“Figured the kid would take a double,” Capelli said with a shrug. “You’re not showing a lot of initiative, rookie,” he said to Cruz who blinked in surprise.

“It was literally his _first_ shift,” Taggert said through clenched teeth. “Who knows what the hell is going on over there? He could have had her in that house and moved her by now—”

“Relax.” Capelli flicked some crumbs from his shirt. “She was never in the house anyway. We looked.”

Sure, they’d looked, but it didn’t mean that they hadn’t missed something. Why did Lansing drug his wife if he wasn’t planning to stash Carly at the house at least temporarily?

“Capelli—”

“Besides.” His partner slapped a file at his chest. “We got a lead.” He nodded to Cruz. “You’ll want to hear this. I can _prove_ this is a mob hit.”

Taggert flinched at the word. He didn’t want to think of Carly as already beyond their help—as a body they were just trying to find. She was a pregnant woman, the daughter of his landlord. He liked Bobbie, liked Carly’s kid despite his family connections.

“How?” Taggert asked. “There’s none of the markers—”

“Ric Lansing’s background came back. Take a look.”

Taggert sighed and opened the file. He skimmed—his heart started to pound—then raised his eyes. “His father is Trevor Lansing, lead counsel for Zacchara Trucking.”

“As in Anthony Zacchara?” Cruz asked. “Didn’t he take over for the Gambinos in Manhattan?”

“Yes, yes, he did.” Capelli grinned, raised his coffee cup in salute. “Mob hit. Taking out the wife. I bet Trevor got himself tangled up in the Zaccharas just to get at Sonny.”

“I can buy that Ric Lansing has a hard on because his mother chose to raise Sonny, but I’m _not_ seeing it for a grown ass man who made the demand in the first place,” Taggert muttered, even as he continued to look through the file. “Ric has had himself an interesting job history. Counsel of record for Luis Alcazar until the man went over the balcony, wonder _why_ that never came up. And—look at this—”

Taggert touched a canceled check on the last page of Ric’s financial records. “Why is Ned Ashton paying Ric Lansing for legal advice? The lawyer of the man who killed his fiancée?” He closed the file and slapped it back at Capelli. “But I still don’t buy this is a mob hit.”

“If they didn’t take Carly to get rid of her,” Capelli said, “then maybe they’re just trying to get leverage. You remember two years ago? There were rumors Zacchara was sick, and one of the Vega kids tried to ham in on the cigarette trade.”

“They never did find all of the pieces of the wife,” Taggert murmured. “He probably should have made the deal.” He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can buy that Corinthos and Morgan have something Zacchara wants. Probably why Lansing came to town in the first place.”

“And why he hooked up with the wife. She’s been mixed up with those idiots for years,” Capelli said. “You think _she’s_ in on this? Looking for revenge?”

“No,” Cruz said without thinking. Both older detectives looked at him and he swallowed hard. “I mean, I just—I met her. But she looked pretty upset yesterday. Sick, too. And she—I think she thinks her husband is involved. She acted one way when Ric was with you guys—talking to that Morgan guy. And _then_ she flipped a switch when you all came back.”

“She’s smart,” Taggert murmured, but now he was worried. If Lansing had drugged her once—would he drug her again? Would he hurt her even more? “Cruz…until further notice, I want you on the house. I want you to pull that other kid who just started—the one on the patrol?”

“Dante?”

“Yeah. Rotate shifts with him. Can you both pull twelve hour shifts for a few days?” Taggert exhaled slowly. “I know it’s a lot to ask so soon, but I got a bad feeling. I want someone on Elizabeth Webber at all times. At least for now.”

“I’m sure Dante wouldn’t care, but we could also use Lucky—I know you didn’t want him on this—”

“I don’t,” Taggert admitted. “And he’s not assigned to me, he’s assigned to Esposito. But—” Lucky might have a vested interest in doing right by Carly and Elizabeth. “You and the other kid—you take the first day. I’ll try to get Lucky assigned to this detail.”

He looked to Capelli. “We need to get those warrants for the business records before Corinthos and Morgan can shred any connection. Zacchara is the key to this.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

It had been more than twenty-four hours since Sonny had slept.  He hadn’t even gone into his bedroom and had decided, arbitrarily so, that he wouldn’t go near that room until Carly was home. Until they could go to bed together.

Michael was asleep in his room with a worried Leticia standing guard. He’d finally cried himself to sleep the night before and had been upset most of the day. He’d wanted Jason, he’d wanted his mother, he’d wanted Aunt Courtney—

He wanted safety and security, and Sonny _couldn’t_ give that to him right now.

Not until he found his wife and brought her home.

“Thanks for coming so fast,” Sonny told the two men who had just been shown into the penthouse by Max. Both of the men wore familiar faces—but only one of them was known to Sonny. Justus Ward had immediately flown in from Philadelphia, promising to keep the PCPD at bay at least for a little while.

And Bernie Abrams, brother to the deceased and dearly missed Benny, was there to make sense of the mess that had taken over their lives since Benny’s death in March.

“I’ve drawn up paperwork,” Justus began, “to inform the PCPD that _no one_ will be allowed on the premises without a search warrant and revoking any right that Courtney Matthews has to give permission to search either penthouse.” He hesitated. “I had to…use some legal language that might be bit harsh about Jason’s place. It basically calls her a squatter who has residential rights but no legal authority. You might want to make sure she never sees this.”

“I could not care less right now,” Sonny said, his blood still simmering at the perfidy and stupidity of his sister, the woman Jason had nearly married. Well, that was as good as over—there was no way Jason was going to be able to trust Courtney again after not only calling the police but allowing them to search their homes. “Whatever it takes.”

“Do we want to think about making an appeal to the media?” Justus asked. “I’m aware you already have an idea of who did this, Sonny, but it might put public pressure on the PCPD to stay out of your hair—”

“My contact—” Bernie flushed slightly. “He was my brother’s contact, I mean, but at any rate, the DA’s office is writing up warrants for the warehouse and the coffee house.”

“We haven’t even opened the goddamn place yet,” Sonny muttered, raking his hands through hair. His eyes felt gritty and he just wanted to lay down. This was all a dream. A horrible nightmare.

He wanted his wife back.

“They’re going to come up with some bullshit reason to grant the search warrants,” Sonny said, “so we gotta clear out the warehouses. We got stay a step ahead of them. Bernie, I need you to get my guys together. Johnny—he’s running the warehouses. You get him, and Francis on security, and Tommy—he’s my bookie guy. Get them all. We need to have a status meeting. It needs to be now.” He looked at Justus. “How much insulation do you want?”

“I’ll worry about that after Carly is found, Sonny,” Justus told him. “Don’t think about that right now. I’ll work on a press release, and Bernie and I will sort through the paperwork while you’re making sure everything is ready for the prying eyes of the PCPD.”

Max knocked on the door and opened it slightly. “Hey, Boss….your, ah, sister was hoping to check on you—”

“No,” Sonny said bluntly. “I’m not interested.” When Max shut the door, Sonny looked at Bernie and Justus. “This— _all_ of this is because Courtney called them. I can’t make a fucking move to find my wife because everyone is watching me.”

“You know Jason is going find her,” Justus said. “He won’t rest until he does.”

“She’s my wife,” Sonny growled. “ _I_ should be finding her.” He poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and then drank it in one thirsty gulp. “Let’s get to work. Carly is screwed if Jason and I end up in jail.”

**Kelly’s: Parking Lot**

Emily slid off the hood of her car as Jason’s motorcycle parked in the spot next to hers. “Hey. I know you’re busy—”

“I wanted to say goodbye.” Jason embraced his sister tightly. “Thank you. I know you don’t want to leave.”

“No, but…” Emily bit her lip. “Any news?” She folded her arms. “I mean, that’s a stupid question, but—”

“Nothing. It’s like she vanished into thin air. I’ve had someone watching Lansing all day—he hasn’t left the house.” Jason shook his head, frustrated. “She has to be in the house, but I don’t know how. The PCPD searched it, and they’re morons, but they’re not _that_ bad.”

“That’s what Elizabeth says. She just has this feeling that the answer is in the house.” Emily closed her eyes. “The only reason I’m leaving is because you said it will be easier for her to lie to Ric if I’m not here challenging her, but I feel like leaving just convinces her that no one cares about her.”

“I can’t—I tried to convince her to leave, Em. If I put her on that plane without her permission, she’d just come right back.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I could have said to change her mind. If almost overdosing didn’t convince her, nothing will.”

“Well, maybe we just need another voice of reason. Bobbie is going to try to talk to her, and if that doesn’t work—” Emily hesitated. “It’s not that I _don’t_ want to find Carly. I do. I don’t like her, but I love you. And she matters to you. And I love Michael, and I know he loves his mother. But Elizabeth is risking her life, and I’m just—I’m scared. I thought about calling Lucky to see if his dad would help.”

“Luke’s been pretty useless since Laura got sick,” Jason told her with a bit a regret. “I don’t know what—”

“Luke doesn’t have your penchant for letting people make their own decisions. Yeah, if you made Liz get on that plane with me, she’d come right home. But Luke would just lock her up until it was safe.” Emily leaned her forehead against her brother’s chest. “I haven’t been the kind of friend she needed. I know I’m abandoning her. Please don’t let her do this alone.”

“I’m not—”

“Because she blames herself for all of it. This is how she’s going to make it right. That’s what she’s telling herself.” Emily’s voice broke. “She’s so lost and broken, Jason. Her husband nearly killed her, and she doesn’t have enough goddamn sense to just leave. You’d find Carly without her staying here—she says she doesn’t have a death wish but how else to explain it—”

“I promise you, Emily,” Jason took his sister by the shoulders and Emily looked up at him. “I am not going to let Elizabeth do this alone. If there are answers in that house, we’ll find them in a few days. And if we don’t, there’s no reason to let her stay.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to let her down again.”

**Elizabeth’s Studio**

Elizabeth ran her fingers over the flip phone that the guard had delivered to her. He was apparently her guard, the man who called himself Cody Paul said. He wouldn’t drive her around, but he’d follow her. His number was in the phone, right after Jason’s. Both of them on the speed dial.

Just an extra reassurance that someone was always close, someone would always be there to help.

And now she had to go home. To figure out a way to go back to the house and to being Ric’s wife. Would he let her sleep in the other room again? Maybe she should tell him she got sick at the studio. Maybe she should guilt him the way that he did her, make him feel sorry for trying to kill her with drugs.

She opened the phone and looked at the speed dials—there were only two programmed. Jason was number two, Cody number three. She committed that to memory, then pressed two.

_“Elizabeth.”_

“I got the phone,” she told him. “I just—I figured you’d know when I got it—and if you meant it about checking in—”

_“Every hour,” Jason cut in. “Except, I guess, when you sleep. But every hour.”_

“Okay.” Elizabeth slowly exhaled. “Okay. And I got—Cody is here. Um, thank you.”

_“The minute you want to get out of this, you tell Cody. He has instructions to take you to a safe house or put you on a plane to Emily,” Jason said. “I will always take your call, but I don’t—the cops are all over us and I wanted you to have options if I can’t be there.”_

Her eyes burned, and she couldn’t speak for a moment. “Okay.”

There was a knock on her sturdy studio door—the one that Jason given her the year before. Cody opened it slightly. “Bobbie Spencer, Miss Webber.”

“I have to go,” she told Jason. “I’ll call you back in an hour.”

_“Okay. Be careful_.”

She closed the phone, then waved for Cody to let Bobbie in. The redhead bustled in, crossed the room, and drew Elizabeth into a tight hug. “You are scaring the life out of me, Elizabeth Webber.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said. She drew back, wiping her eyes. “Did Jason or Emily send you?”

“Monica, actually,” Bobbie told her. She took Elizabeth’s chin in her hands and peered into her eyes. “I saw your chart on the desk, and I broke all the codes and rules. I looked up your visit today. God _damn_ it, Elizabeth. The levels of benzos in your blood gave me the chills.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I know. I know what you’re going to say.”

“I know that Jason, Emily, and Monica have already tried to talk to you. I know that Monica nearly called in a psych consult.” Bobbie took Elizabeth’s arms, wrapping her hands around them just below Elizabeth’s elbows. “The risk you are taking to help my daughter, it humbles me because I know you don’t like one another. But _don’t_ do it. Let Jason and Sonny handle it.”

“They told me months ago that Ric was a mistake, but I ignored them. I let Ric into my life, into my heart—I let his lies put me in a prison cell, lock me away from everyone who I could have reached for—” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I can’t let him get away with this. _Please_ don’t ask me to be weak, Bobbie. I can do this. I can make this right.”

“Okay.” Bobbie embraced her again. “Okay. I’m sure Jason has taken all the precautions he could. I saw the guard. I guess that’s the phone he said he’d give you. You put me on that speed dial, too, Elizabeth. You take care of yourself.” Tears slid down her cheek. “And, oh, God, _find_ my daughter. Please. I need to have her back.”

“We’re going to find Carly.” Elizabeth returned the hug even more tightly. Finally, she was in the strong position. Giving comfort. “I won’t rest until I do.”


	6. Chapter Six

_Its just that we stayed, too long_  
 _In the same old sickly skin_  
 _I'm pulled down by the undertow_  
 _I never thought I could feel so low_  
 _Oh darkness I feel like letting go_  
\- Full of Grace, Sarah McLachlan

* * *

_Saturday, June 20, 2003_

**Lansing Home: Panic Room**

Despite her best efforts, Carly spent most of that first day dozing off and on, fighting the vestiges of the drug he’d given her. Ric had only come in once that morning to bring her a daily ration of food—she suspected he was never sure when Elizabeth might be home and didn’t want to be caught coming and going.

It reassured her that the twit wasn’t involved. Elizabeth had terrible taste in men, but she wasn’t evil. If only she could somehow get Elizabeth’s attention—if she could force the room open—

When she _was_ awake, Carly was planning. She could try to knock Ric out, but what if she killed him and then no one ever found him? She might end up chained in this room forever—

And so she spent time trying to pick a lock, promising herself it would be the first skill that she learned when she got out of here. Because she _would_ get out of here. She knew Jason and Sonny would be looking for her—and she didn’t believe Ric that no one suspected him.

Last night had been hazy, but Carly had been awake enough to see the monitors—to know that Jason and Sonny had crashed through the door—that only the arrival of the PCPD had made them leave. They would be back. And she would be ready for them.

She sat cross-legged on the tiny cot, having exchanged her evening gown for a pair of stretchy black pants and a long-sleeved gray shirt, protection against the artificial chill created by the air conditioning and concrete walls. She stared at the monitors, tracking comings and goings and the lack thereof.

She had watched as Elizabeth woke up and ate a breakfast Ric made for her—Carly had screamed at her until her voice was hoarse because she had seen him dumping pills in the eggs, in the hollandaise—in her orange juice—everywhere. Why was he _still_ drugging his wife?

Elizabeth had left and then hadn’t returned for the entire day, but Ric still didn’t come inside. He sat in a room looked like it was meant to be a study at a desk piled with paperwork like he was a real lawyer.

The panic room also had screens that looked outside and showed her the front of the house and street. She’d seen the patrol car parked all night—she’d watched Jason’s familiar figure approach that morning—still dressed in the tuxedo from the wedding—then leave. The patrol car had left shortly after, only to return around five that afternoon.

She’d seen Elizabeth’s car pull away—and now—now it was returning. Her screen was in black and white, the quality was horrible—but Carly had made fun of the battered gold Nissan Sentra enough with Courtney to recognize it when it pulled into a driveway.

Carly narrowed her eyes as another car drove down the street, parked just past the house with no one exiting. Elizabeth got out of her car, looked towards the other one—and then went towards the house.

Something warm spread through her chest. She recognized the car as one that the guards drove with the darkened windows. Sonny had someone following Elizabeth. And Elizabeth knew it. Elizabeth knew Ric was guilty. Carly might have an ally.

If only she could figure out how to contact her, to get her attention.

**Lansing Home: Front Step**

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder one last time to the darkened car where Cody sat guard and to the patrol car out front. She didn’t recognize this officer, but it was good to see the PCPD hadn’t given up.

She could do this. She could go back into this house as if she didn’t know Ric was a kidnapping monster who had nearly killed her that morning.

Her phone was tucked securely in her purse, inside a hidden lining that she herself had ripped open. She’d have to find a way to keep it on her person—too bad it was summer and baggy clothes wouldn’t work as well.

Elizabeth pushed open the door and looked around the living room, towards the stairs. Somewhere in this house there had to be a clue to Carly’s kidnapping. _How_ was she supposed to get Ric out of the house tomorrow so Jason could come in and tear it apart? So his men could plant devices to track Ric?

She’d just have to do figure it out. No way around it.

She heard Ric’s steps on the stairs and arranged her features into a smile. She knew how to fake happiness—she was a master of _that_ at least. “Hey.”

“Hey. I thought you’d be home sooner.” Ric crossed the room and kissed her cheek. His lips drifted towards her mouth, but Elizabeth shied away. “What’s wrong?”

“The patrol car is still out there,” Elizabeth said with a grimace. “And I just keep thinking about Carly. Wherever she is, you know?”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Ric narrowed his eyes. “Sonny has a lot of enemies, I’m sure _you_ know that.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and nearly blown up, so…” She lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “Still, she’s…she’s going to have a baby.” And the distress wasn’t forced now. “She’s due only a little before I would have been—”

“Of course, I should have realized.” She let him draw her into an embrace, her heart pounding. If she hadn’t known—if she hadn’t overdosed that morning—if no one had come to the house last night—God, _would_ she have suspected him?

If she hadn’t had proof, would she still believe Jason and Sonny’s certainty as she did now? She wasn’t entirely confident that she would have seen through him.

After all, she hadn’t before despite all the evidence to the contrary. She had deluded herself into thinking this man could be saved. That she could be the one to save him.

“And then when I went to see Emily,” Elizabeth said, drawing back, “I felt _really_ sick.”

There—she didn’t imagine the way his eyes focused on her. The anxiety in the dark depths. “Oh?” Even his voice had risen just slightly in pitch.

“Yeah, I—I was dizzy. Tired. And sick to my stomach.” She set her hand against her abdomen, still feeling unsettled. “You know the Quartermaines—Emily made me talk to her mother—”

“You didn’t—you didn’t go to the hospital, did you?” Ric asked with a nervous laugh. “I mean, you would have called me if it was serious.”

“No, Monica looked at me at the mansion,” she lied. “But Monica said I had a bit of a stomach virus. I guess that explains why I felt so awful last night. On top of Carly being kidnapped and everyone saying all those terrible things—” Elizabeth managed a half smile. “So, I’m—I’m going to stay home tomorrow. Rest.”

“Oh.” Ric drew his brows together. “Are you sure it’s that serious? I know how hard you’ve been working on the show—”

“It’s only one day,” Elizabeth said, clasping her purse tightly to her. Twenty minutes before she was supposed to check in with Jason. “And it’s not like I’d get a lot done—”

“Yeah, well—” Ric stopped when his own cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and scowled. “It’s my father.”

“Your _father_ —” Elizabeth blinked. “I thought you weren’t in touch—”

“I’m not.” Ric opened the phone. “Dad—What? No. I—I don’t know what—” He was quiet for a long moment, his expression like granite. “Yeah. Yeah, fine.”  He closed the phone and tossed it on the coffee table. “I have to…I have to go down to Crimson Point tomorrow.”

Crimson Point was just outside of New York City, Elizabeth knew that. “I thought your dad lived in New York City—”

“He does,” Ric snapped, then smoothed out his features. “Sorry. I just—he has a client in Crimson Point. He wants me to meet with him. He’s, ah, been trying to get me into his practice.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth nodded. “Did—did you want me to go—I mean, I haven’t met—”

“ _No_ ,” he said sharply. Then he took a deep breath. “You said you needed to rest, so I guess—” He rolled his shoulders. “It’s fine. Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll bring you something to eat—”

“I already ate with Monica and Emily,” Elizabeth said quickly. “They had Cook make me something gentle for my stomach flu.” Which was partially true.  “I—I’m probably going to be up and down all night, so I thought I’d stay in the guest room again—it has its own bathroom.”

Ric tilted his head. “You haven’t wanted to sleep in the same room with me since we got here,” he said quietly. “Is there something I should know?”

“I—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “It’s all just…. a lot,” she said, flustered. “So much has happened these last few weeks and you know, Dr. Meadows said it might be…it be might be sometime before I was ready—”

“I thought you got a clean bill of health,” Ric said flatly. He stepped towards her.

“I’m scared,” Elizabeth admitted without thinking. “I mean…. of getting pregnant again. I—don’t want to lose another baby.”

And that at least _was_ true. Or it had been the truth up until the night before. Now, she was terrified of having to play that part of being Ric’s wife. Would she have the courage?

How far was she willing to go?

“Ah.” Ric’s eyes cleared. Softened. A calculated move—and Elizabeth wondered how she had ever seen sincerity in those eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry, Elizabeth. We can take as much time as you need.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you. _Everything_ I do is for you.”

And the truly horrifying thing was that Elizabeth believed him.

_Sunday, June 21, 2003_

**PCPD: Interrogation Room**

Taggert scowled as Justus laid out the statement he had already delivered to the newsroom of the Port Charles Herald. “What the hell is _this_?”

“This is my appeal to the media,” Sonny said, leaning back in the hard, wooden chair.  At dawn, Sonny had woken up to the pounding on his door and the demands of Taggert and Capelli to come down to the station voluntarily or be arrested.

Sonny had agreed only because he wanted to keep the PCPD focused on him while Jason did whatever needed to be done. Jason had briefly brought him up to date—there was no sign of Carly, but Elizabeth had remained adamant about staying even after nearly overdosing on Valium Ric had surely slipped her.

Sonny believed Jason’s theory—that the house held some sort of clue as to Carly’s whereabouts or Ric wouldn’t have bothered drugging Elizabeth, but he was less confident that Elizabeth would be valuable. He had been touched, oddly, that during her drugged stupor, she’d insisted on staying. That her loyalty to them had surfaced then despite neither Jason nor Sonny really having given her much reason to believe in them over the last eight months.

But Ric was a dangerous sociopath who had already proven once that Elizabeth’s health was less important to him than getting his revenge on Sonny.

Sonny had hoped that by coming to the station without an argument that Taggert would give him the benefit of the doubt and start treating him like the victim— _his_ wife was missing after all.

“The papers are already dogging us—it’s all we can do to keep them from interfering as it is,” Taggert snarled. Sonny was too tired to be amused by the idea that the only reason Lansing’s name hadn’t been leaked to the papers as a person of interest was because of the _cops_.

_Sonny_ had put the _Herald_ on an embargo, threatening to buy them out and close the paper down if Ric’s name was publicized. The last thing he and Jason wanted a bunch of reporters dogging Ric’s steps. Bad enough the PCPD was involved.

“Well, then stop going after my client and find his wife and we won’t have to tell the media how you’re screwing up,” Justus retorted. “You’re wasting our time here, Taggert—”

“I’m trying to find his wife and he’s not cooperating—”

“You searched my home, you’re trying to search my financial records, my business—” Sonny waved off Justus’s irritated expression. “Do you really think I’ve got my wife stashed somewhere? Look at me, Taggert. My pregnant wife is missing. My son saw the man who did it. And you let him stay in his home, dragging me down to the station instead.”

“I’m not perfect,” Sonny continued with a shake of his head. “I’m not even close, but you know me better than that. Tell me why I’m here and that sick son of a bitch isn’t.”

Taggert hesitated, sat back. “Because Michael is the _only_ link to Ric,” he admitted. “He’s a small boy who was clearly upset. We searched Ric’s home. There’s no evidence he ever left—” He held up a hand. “Look, you want to me to level with you, Corinthos? I’m working my ass off to find Carly. Look at _me_ , I ain’t slept either.” He shoved himself to his feet. “But what do I got? I got Carly being violently kidnapped from your partner’s wedding—where _everyone_ knew she’d be.”

Taggert paused. “I got your kid telling me it was Ric Lansing, and when we get to the house—there’s no sign Ric ever left, and yet his wife looks like she’s been drugged. She’ll never hold up as an alibi. But Carly’s not in the house. Even if we take Ric in—”

“You don’t necessarily find Carly.” Sonny’s mouth was dry as he considered that for the first time, he and Taggert were actually on the same side—to a certain extent.  “Yeah, I get that.”

“Of course Lansing did this. Of course that’s what I’m trying to prove. But why? That’s how I’m going to get him. We’re following him. He’s going to lead us to Carly eventually. But I gotta use all my sources, and my sources tell me this is about your business.”

Sonny snorted. “That’s what it _always_ comes back to, isn’t it—”

“Ric Lansing’s father is Trevor Lansing, lead counsel for Anthony Zacchara,” Taggert cut in sharply. “You’re telling me that I’m crazy for thinking _Zacchara_ might have something to do with your pregnant wife going missing?”

Sonny exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes. _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

“Anthony Zacchara,” he repeated. “You fucking with me, Taggert?”

Justus hissed. “Sonny—”

“I am being one hundred percent honest with you, Corinthos. I can see from your face that you get it.” Taggert slapped his hand on the table. “Look, you know I want you behind bars. It’s all I can think about. But Carly doesn’t deserve this. So give that bastard whatever he wants so you can bring your wife home.”

“I would,” Sonny said slowly as something crawled inside his chest, wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. “If I knew what he wanted.” He met Taggert’s eyes. “If Zacchara is involved, this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

Taggert furrowed his brow. “You telling me you _didn’t_ know Ric Lansing was tied to them?”

“No—I—” Sonny shook his head. Had to stop himself from answering. The truth that he hadn’t done nearly enough leg work into Ric’s past. The man had showed up when things had been so chaotic—Jason and Brenda had been on trial for murder. And by the time they realized something was wrong—

Benny had been gone—and Ric had been wreaking havoc with Carly, trying to blackmail Courtney, then kidnapping her—getting Elizabeth pregnant—staging the scene at the Vineyard—

It had never occurred to Sonny that this might be anything but personal. And God, what if they were wrong about why Ric had taken Carly? What if he had kidnapped her and given her right to the Zaccharas on Friday night?

Sonny exhaled slowly. “Am I under arrest?” he said mildly. “I’d like to be at home with my son.”

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Kelsey Joyce listened with half an ear as Scott and Mac Scorpio discussed the open cases and investigations in Organized Crime—Major Crimes was next, and she wasn’t all that interested in mafia crime.

She frowned when she heard the word kidnapping and tuned back in. “You have a kidnapping case being investigated by Organized Crime?”

“Yes.” Mac focused on her. “The Corinthos kidnapping. We’re—we’re thirty-six hours in. No leads.” He grimaced at Scott. “And you know Floyd is on my ass.”

“Of course, he is,” Scott offered with a smirk. He looked at Kelsey. “Floyd is currently running for re-election.” Turning back to Mac, “I don’t know what he’s worried about. I don’t even know who’s running against him.”

“Yeah, well, we screw up a high-profile case like this, and someone might crawl out of the woodwork. Deadline to get on the ballot isn’t until September.” Mac sighed. “It’s still early, but Capelli and Taggert have some leads—”

Kelsey put up her hand to interrupt the commissioner. “I don’t have anything in my files about a kidnapping case. I should be copied on this—”

“Why?” Scott said, in a tone that advised her not to argue. “It’s Sonny Corinthos—”

“It’s _Carly_ Corinthos, a pregnant woman,” she said, calmly. “I’m not saying Major Crimes should be _running_ it, I’m just saying that we should be involved. OCU is bound to have tunnel vision.”

“Tunnel vision?” Scott repeated with a snort as the commissioner looked amused. “Listen, Kelsey—this is only your first day—you’re here as a courtesy—”

“Your conviction rates in Port Charles for both Major Crimes and Organized Crimes are at an all-time low,” Kelsey interrupted, her tone cool. She hadn’t volunteered to come in on a Sunday for shits and giggles. She’d spent the hours since being hired researching the new job she’d started. “You put too much resources into OCU, and MCU is usually left to flounder.”

“Listen—”

But now the commissioner sighed, the amusement having left his face. “She’s not wrong, Scott. Corinthos was just in here waving around a media statement that said the same thing.” He focused on Kelsey. “Taggert requested some help from the MCU, and I shot him down. He wanted another uniform to do some legwork.”

“You should agree to it. It would be a good sharing of the resources and reassure the MCU that you value them.” Kelsey held out her hand. “And I’d like a copy of the file as well.”

“No need,” Scott said. “I’m taking point on the Corinthos—”

“Am I in charge of the MCU or not, Scott?” Kelsey asked. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, but she was determined not to let them see her as a weak little girl they could push around. “If the MCU is involved in a case, my office gets copied on the files. That’s the policy. I’m just asking you to enforce it.”

“Fair enough.” Scott raised his brow. “Anything else?”

“No.” Kelsey exhaled slowly. “No, we can move on. Thank you.”

**Kelly’s: Lucky’s Room**

Lucky set the phone back on the bar and stared at it for a long moment. The next morning, when he reported for duty, he would be sitting in a patrol car outside of the Lansing home.

He knew that his aunt would be happy that Lucky was working the case, and part of him was glad to be able to reassure her with any news he could offer.

But he was supposed to be watching Ric Lansing and keeping an eye on Elizabeth.

He had tried so hard to avoid Elizabeth these last nine months—since she’d helped him get his father out of jail. For nearly a year after the last brainwashing, he’d gone through the motions with her, pretending they might be able to get things back to where they were—and then pretending they could be friends.

But Elizabeth had always known him better than anyone else and there were times that he slipped—times when he didn’t remember something he was supposed to—and he didn’t want to explain to anyone that Helena Cassadine had not only manipulated his emotions, she had made Swiss cheese of his memory.

His memories of Elizabeth and of the last three years, were hazy and insubstantial—and _every_ time Elizabeth looked at him, he was afraid she could see how empty he was now.

But she was in trouble, Taggert told him. And Emily had given him some cryptic hints that something was even more deeply wrong in Elizabeth’s new marriage.

So…he would look out for her. She deserved that from him, at least. After everything he’d put her through since his ignominious return from the dead, she deserved whatever help he could give her.

**Lansing Home: Front Porch**

Elizabeth waited until Ric’s car had pulled out of the driveway and turned the corner before leaving the house. She knew that the drive to Crimson Point would take two hours each way—giving her at least four or five hours to let Jason do what needed to be done.

She walked down to the patrol car where she recognized the rookie from Friday night. She had expected the patrol car to follow Ric, then had been irritated when he didn’t.

“Why are you still here?” she demanded. “You’re supposed to be following my husband.”

Cruz Rodriguez blinked at her. “Ah, what? I—” He shook his head. “No. My orders are to watch you, Mrs. Lansing.” His olive-skinned cheeks took on a bit of a red hue. “We, ah, got someone else on your husband.”

“You think _I’m_ going to lead you to Carly?” Elizabeth demanded. “You think I did this?”

“No,” Cruz said. He sighed. “No, but we know that your husband drugged you, and Detective Taggert was worried about you.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth exhaled. “Oh. Well, okay. Then you need to do something for me.”

He eyed her a bit suspiciously. “Uh—”

“Jason Morgan is going to come to this house and he’s going to tear it apart,” she told him. “He’s going to look for Carly or anything that might lead to her. I doubt that surprises you. I remember you from Friday.”

“I…yes. I guess I figured he was just waiting for Lansing to leave. I—I have to tell my superiors—”

“It doesn’t matter what they know,” Elizabeth muttered. “Because _I’m_ giving the permission. You got it? I don’t want _anyone_ calling anyone at the PCPD about Jason or whoever he brings here. I _know_ how you guys work. How you jump on anything—”

“Mrs. Lansing…” Cruz held his hands up in defeat. “My _only_ orders are to make sure you’re okay. If Jason Morgan can find Carly, then that’s what matters.” He stopped. “You think your husband did this, don’t you?”

“If you tell Ric I do, I’ll deny it,” Elizabeth said with some irritation. She saw a dark SUV pull up. Jason got out of the driver’s side, another man in the passenger, and then—oddly enough—a teen-aged boy from the backseat with a laptop bag. “You seem like a nice guy. Why don’t you drive around the block or something?”

“If you’re okay,” Cruz said after a moment, “there’s no reason anything else has to go in my report.”

Jason approached her, eying the patrol car suspiciously. “He’s still here.”

“He’s here to check on me, I guess.” Elizabeth gestured to the house. “We should go inside.”

Jason signaled to the two men to follow them.

**Lansing House: Panic Room**

Carly could have wept with joy as she saw Jason on the screen—as she watched Jason follow Elizabeth into the house.

Two men followed—she recognized one as Stan, someone who worked on electronics for them, but she didn’t know the second, younger boy who set up a laptop in the living room and took a large orange soda from his bag.

She watched Jason and Elizabeth go from room to room, looking in every crevice and cranny, opening every door—searching the basement, the study—

For an hour, she watched their slow careful progress—she watched as Jason became frustrated, as Elizabeth became increasingly flustered. They had kept up a conversation the whole time, but with no audio, she could just see that neither of them was happy with how it was going.

_How_ could they miss the panic room? How was it built into the house so that it wasn’t obvious? Frustrated, Carly pounded the walls again. _Screamed_ for them to hear her.

Why couldn’t Jason find her?

**Lansing Home: Guest Bedroom**

Jason almost slammed the closet door shut. That was it. This was the last room in the house.

He’d…he’d really expected to find her today. To find some hint of her. A shoe. A piece of fabric. Some hair. Some sign that she’d been here.

Elizabeth hovered at the doorway, her eyes dark with worry, concern. “I don’t understand,” she murmured as she drifted inside. “There wasn’t enough time for him to go anywhere and still make it home.”

“He must have delivered her to the Zaccharas that night.” Jason slammed his hand on the bureau, the combs and small pieces flying up slightly in the air. “Damn it.”

“I don’t—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “I don’t think so. I—I know you said you and Sonny were worried about it, but—his father—when he called—”

Jason looked at her. “What?”

“Ric didn’t seem happy about it. Irritated. If Ric was working with his father and the Zaccharas—then why did Ric kidnap her himself?” Elizabeth folded her arms, restlessly rubbing them. “Why risk it?”

Jason sank onto the mattress. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I mean, Michael saw it happen. He saw Ric. If Ric had gotten her away without that sighting—it might have been longer before we knew she was gone—” He looked at her. “You wouldn’t have looked so drugged if we’d been even twenty minutes later.”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. If Taggert is going after this connection, what are the odds that Ric’s father hasn’t heard about what happened? Maybe that’s why Ric was so irritated when Trevor called.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just over thinking it.”

She looked around the room and then back towards the hallway where she watched as Jason’s electronics man, Stan, placed a camera and bug in the smoke detector in the master bedroom.

“No. You’re—I haven’t really slept,” Jason admitted. “And it’s been almost forty hours. Between Carly’s kidnapping, and the cops being all over everything—”

“Having to save my life,” Elizabeth pointed out with a sigh. “Yeah. I get.” She bit her lip. “Have you…eaten? You should eat and sleep. Carly wouldn’t want you to worry yourself like this. You know she’ll stay strong until you find her. But you’re only human, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason hated to admit it, but he had probably run into himself into the ground—he hadn’t wanted to return to the penthouse where he knew Courtney waited.

He was _so_ angry at her for putting them in this position, for putting them under the scrutiny of the PCPD. For what? So that she could feel like she was doing something?

He couldn’t help but compare Elizabeth’s reaction to all of this—her husband had drugged her, nearly killed her, and still—she stood in this room, having opened her home to Jason and his guys—had put her life on the line to find Carly.

And she was right. Taggert and the PCPD might want to think Anthony Zacchara was involved because it would give them the excuse they needed to dig into their businesses, but too much about the kidnapping showed it was done by one man.

“I should check in with Stan and Spinelli.” Jason checked his watch. “We need to talk about the next step. Carly’s not here. There’s no clues.” He met Elizabeth’s eyes. “I can put you on a plane to Emily tonight.”

She was already shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “It’s not just the _house_ I can get you access to,” she told him. “New York is a community property state. As long as I stay here, play along, I can give you permission to go into _anything_ Ric owns. Anywhere. I leave, and you run the risk of getting arrested—”

“I don’t care about getting arrested,” Jason muttered. Even if she was right— “It’s not worth—”

“I told Ric I got sick yesterday. And I could see that worried him. He didn’t mean for me to eat all of that food—that’s why the dose was so high—”

“Don’t—” He blinked at her. “Are you making _excuse_ s for him?” Damn it—

Her smile was wry, even as her eyes were irritated. “Because that’s what I do, right? Make excuses. For him. For Lucky, For Zander. He didn’t _mean_ to kill me, so I guess it doesn’t matter that he almost _did_.”

“I—”

“I think he knows he went too far,” Elizabeth said flatly, cutting off his reply. “I haven’t been eating—so I think he overdid how much he put in. But I didn’t—I didn’t want him to suspect me. I thought it would be okay. So I told him I got sick, and he was terrified that I almost went to the hospital. I told him I wanted to sleep in separate rooms because I didn’t want to have another miscarriage.” She exhaled slowly. “Ric thinks he can manipulate me. Why wouldn’t he? He did it for months and I didn’t even blink.”

“Elizabeth—” Jason’s tone was gentler now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Because I’m good at ignoring things in front of my face—you should know that. I never thought Lucky would—and I sure as hell defended Zander at every turn—” She looked away, and he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Anyway. My eyes are open now. I think I can do this for a little while longer.”

Jason sighed. She wasn’t wrong that it _would_ be more convenient to have permission to get into places Ric owned—he didn’t care about the law, but he really didn’t want to be dragged into the police station and locked up. Not while Carly was out there, waiting for him to find her.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s talk about the next step then.”


	7. Chapter Seven

_It's the same sad echo when you lie_  
 _It's the same sad echo when you try to be clear_  
 _It's the same as the same sad echo around here_  
\- Echo, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

* * *

_Sunday, June 21, 2003_

_Crimson Point, New York_

**Zacchara Estate: Trevor Lansing’s Office**

It was days like these that Trevor Lansing wished like hell he’d drowned the boy in the bath as a child. Richard had been _nothing_ but a disappointment since the day he’d been born—not even special or important enough for his mother to stick around—

He’d done what he could, but Richard was useless.

“You haven’t stuck to the plan since day one,” Trevor snarled when his son arrived that Sunday. “You had your instructions—”

“It’s working,” his son retorted. “I’m just not following _your_ orders.” Ric scoffed. “I’m the one in the middle of everything—why should I listen to you?”

“I got the PCPD breathing down our necks—you know the Crimson Point police are just chomping at the bit to get to Anthony. Faith Roscoe is calling me, making threats—” Trevor whirled around, stabbed a finger at his phone. “You were supposed to be taking Corinthos down from the inside and you’re so far _outside_ —”

“They’re weak right now. Looking for Carly.” Ric shrugged. “You worry too much. Don’t call my home—”

“What, because I might meet your wife?” Trevor let his eyes open wide. “You think I’m _stupid_ , Richard? You think I don’t know about the lure of a pretty girl? You had one job with the Webber girl. Screw her secrets out of her. Find Morgan’s Achilles heel. Get rid of her, Richard. And—well, you might as well kill the Corinthos woman as well. Cut your losses.”

He scowled, turning back to his desk. Perfectly good plan shot to bloody hell. This was supposed to be his chance—his moment to get revenge on Sonny Corinthos for costing him a good woman, leading Adela to her death, and for him to step out from under Anthony Zacchara’s thumb.

The territory was supposed to be his, and he was damned if Richard was going to blow it for him.

“Elizabeth stays,” Ric said, stubbornly. “Morgan doesn’t care about her.”

“Damn it.” Trevor rubbed his face. “This weakness comes your mother, I just know it. Dead more than two decades and she’s still haunting me.” He sat behind his desk. “Look, I’m sure the girl is nice. I’m sorry you lost your kid. Tough break—”

“It’s Sonny’s fault,” Ric insisted. “He pushed her. _He_ killed my baby. And he’s stealing Elizabeth from me.” He shrugged. “So I’m taking his woman. His kid.” He smirked. “I should have killed the little bastard when I grabbed Carly. No witnesses—”

Trevor stared at his son—for the first time, seeing the light in his eyes as something more insidious than anger. Talking about killing kids— _Jesus_. “Maybe your idea had merit before the cops got involved, but it’s time to cut your losses,” he repeated. “You know your wife only married you because of the kid. Cut her loose. We’ll give her a nice settlement. Come back home. We’ll figure out another way to get at Corinthos—”

“ _This_ will work.” Ric shook his head. “You just have to let me handle it.”  He paused. “The PCPD thinks I did it for you and Anthony. Maybe if they had a lead to investigate—maybe you can find a way to make them think Carly just left.”

“I can try to lay a few false trails.” Trevor waited a moment. “My patience is running thin, Richard. You’ve let Faith Roscoe dangle in the wind, and she’s crazy. You don’t want her thinking you’re the enemy.”

“I’ll take care of Faith,” Ric said. He glared at his father. “ _Don’t_ summon me again. Get the cops off my back so I can do what needs to be done.”

Trevor watched him go and shook his head again. Ric had gone off the deep end, and he had a bad feeling that if he didn’t get the idiot under control, Ric would take everyone down with him when he crashed. He had no intention of helping him with any false leads, to tangle himself up more in this catastrophe than he already had.

They would wait for the scheme to explode and deal with the pieces then.

_Monday, June 22, 2003_

**Brownstone: Living Room**

It had been more than three days since Carly had vanished from the church, and Bobbie looked as if she had been awake for _every_ single hour of those days. Her dark red hair lay limply against her shoulders, her dark eyes shadowed.

At her side, her niece Lulu was attempting to feed her—a bowl of soup, a cup of coffee lay untouched on the table.

“I don’t understand how he could have taken her and not have led you to her yet,” Bobbie said, her eyes rimmed with red. “Taggert tells me Ric has barely left the house—only went down to Crimson Point yesterday—no stops. No evidence he’s gone to see her.”

“I know,” Jason said, dragging his hands through his hair. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know _what_ to do next.”

“You’re sure he acted alone?” Lulu asked, unable to control herself anymore. No one ever asked for her input, and she was eager to try to help. To do _something_ for the aunt that had taken her in without protest after her mother had fallen…. ill.

“Yes,” Jason snapped, tired of defending himself even to a kid. “I am.”

“Hey.” Lulu held up her hands. “Listen. I’m just trying to help. I believe you. I just—” She bit her lip. “A girl listens. And pays attention, you know? Maybe he took Carly on his own, but I mean—has he been working against you guys alone the _whole_ time?”

Jason frowned at her. “What?”

“He’s been in Port Charles since November,” Lulu pointed out. “I remember when he came to Kelly’s because it was my first week and I broke like eighteen plates. Liz was trying to figure out how much to take out of my paycheck when he rented the room.”

“Odd that he went to _Kelly’s_ to rent a room,” Bobbie said, tilting her head. “I remember thinking that then. He dressed in Italian suits, custom made shoes but lived at Kelly’s. He threw a lot of money around—remember?”

“Yeah,” Lulu nodded. “At Mrs. Hardy’s service, I remember he handled all the arrangements, which I thought was nice because Liz was so upset. She argued later because he had paid for a lot of it up front and then wouldn’t take any money when it was settled.”

“He came to Kelly’s because of _Elizabeth_ ,” Bobbie murmured. “He was pursuing her almost immediately. Oh…” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “He targeted her.”

“Because of me.” Jason looked away. “Yeah. I tried to tell her that, but—”

“She wouldn’t have listened.” Bobbie got to her feet. “He comes from money, that’s clear. But I’m trying to think of anyone else he’s done legal work for—”

“Well, he helped Ned,” Lulu said. “Remember? They had meetings at Kelly’s. I don’t know what about—Liz always told me not to eavesdrop, but they had paperwork and stuff. And wasn’t Ned pretty pissed at you guys last year?”

“The warehouse.” Jason sat down, put his head in his hands. “Yeah. Kristina, his fiancée was killed. And he’s never liked Sonny.”

“Ned might know something. Maybe a property or just— _something_.” Bobbie clenched her fists in her lap as Jason’s cell phone rang.

He took it out of his pocket and exhaled slowly, answering it with some relief. “Hey. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Look, we’ve been talking, and I think we’ve—” He stopped, his brow creasing in frustration. “Elizabeth, don’t—Fine. Yeah, I’ll talk to you in an hour—okay, no, I’ll meet you there.”

He stared at the closed phone for a long moment. “Ric was out looking at office spaces this afternoon,” he said. “She searched the house again. Nothing. Nothing we missed yesterday.”

“There’s nothing in the house,” Lulu said, with some irritation. “Why is she still _there_? We should just force her to leave. She’s so selfish—”

Jason scowled at her, and Lulu blanched at the banked fury in his eyes. “What?” she said defensively. “She’s making everyone worry about her instead of Carly—”

“She’s doing this for Carly,” Bobbie said, touching Lulu’s hand.

“I get that, but it’s just _stupid_.” Lulu shrugged. “She knows that as soon as she leaves the house, she’s going to be put on the plane to California. This way, she gets to stay in the middle of it and have everyone look at her.” She pressed her lips together. “Everyone thinks it, Jason, I’m not the only one—”

“ _Everyone_ ,” Jason repeated, getting to his feet. “How many people are speculating about Elizabeth where anyone, including her psycho husband, can hear?”

Feeling a bit chastised now, Lulu hastily tried to take it back. “That’s not what I mean. I mean—I just—I went to check on Michael this morning, and I was talking to Courtney, and she’s—she’s _so_ worried about Carly, and I mean—I’m right, aren’t I? I mean we’re talking about Liz, _not_ Carly. Liz made her choice. It’s like Courtney said—”

“I’m going,” Jason said to Bobbie, tuning Lulu out. “We’ve got eyes and ears on Ric. I’m not going to rest until she’s home, Bobbie.”

“Don’t kill yourself.” Bobbie got to her feet, embraced her daughter’s best friend. “You need to keep your strength up. Eat. Rest. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Jason flashed an irritated glance at Lulu before he left.

“He’s just mad because I’m right,” Lulu complained. “I get Liz is trying to help, but now look, Jason’s meeting _her_ at the hospital instead of looking—”

“What is Jason supposed to do?” Bobbie snapped. “Ric is the one who took her. We know he acted alone. He’s watching Ric—” Her voice broke. “And if Ric doesn’t lead us to Carly, then we know she’s—she’s somewhere for us to find, and maybe he’ll—”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Bobbie,” Lulu said miserably. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know Jason is trying hard. I’m just—I don’t know. Something is so _weird_ about all of this. Like, how can Carly have just vanished? It’s like she has to be in the house because that’s the only place Ric has been, but she can’t be.” She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I probably shouldn’t have told Jason what Courtney’s been saying about Liz. It’s probably not helping.”

“No, it’s not,” Bobbie said, but then she looked at the meal her niece had been trying to convince her to eat before Jason’s arrival. “We’re doing everything we can right now,” she told Lulu. “But I should take my own advice.” She got to her feet. “I think I’m going to go make some pasta for dinner. I’m suddenly starving.” She would need all the energy she could muster to get through the next few days.

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Courtney stepped off the bottom step and frowned as she watched her brother take _another_ drink. She knew for a fact that the bottle of bourbon at the mini bar had been replaced three times since Carly had gone missing.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she asked, irritated. Why the hell wasn’t he out looking like Jason? Jason was trying to find Carly and had barely been back to their penthouse while her idiot brother sat in this room, drinking himself into a stupor.

“Don’t talk to me about having enough,” Sonny muttered as he tossed back the entire tumbler of bourbon. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”

“Michael’s asleep,” Courtney said, folding her arms. “If you even _care_.”

Sonny whirled around, his dark eyes bright with anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you’re not doing _anything_ to help Carly,” Courtney snarled. “You’re not cooperating with the police, you’re not taking meetings, you’re not even talking to Michael—you’re just drinking yourself into oblivion.”

“ _I’m_ not doing anything to help?” Sonny shot back, waving the glass at her, weaving slightly. “Fuck you. I don’t cooperate with the police—”

“Oh, yeah, because God forbid Big Bad Sonny Corinthos asks for help!”

“You’re a dumb little girl, you know that?” he squinted at her, then dismissed her by turning back to the bar. He reached for the bourbon.

She rushed across the room and jerked the bottle out of his grasp. “You keep trying to make this _my_ fault, Sonny. Like I did what I did to hurt you and Jason—”

“No, I honestly think you thought you were helping. _That’s_ what makes you an idiot.” Sonny sighed and reached for the vodka instead. “I knew you were an idiot. That’s why I told Jason to stay away from you.” He shook his head. “I _told_ him you couldn’t do this.”

“But Jason ignored you. He loves me,” Courtney said, with a confidence she no longer felt. “He chose me—”

“He wanted to prove me wrong,” Sonny said. He bypassed pouring the alcohol this time, and just drank straight from the bottle. “Wanted to prove _everyone_ wrong.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Wanted to prove he was his own man, that he didn’t always put me first.” Sonny shook his head. “I should have let him tell her. This is _my_ fault. If I had just told her the truth, she would have stayed.”

“Are—” Courtney frowned. “What did you lie to Carly about? She didn’t leave you, Sonny. She was kidnapped.” With disdain dripping, she continued, “Or are you too drunk to remember _that_?”

“If she had stayed, you wouldn’t have been there.” Sonny sank onto the sofa, leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “ _She_ wouldn’t have called the cops.”

Her blood boiled as she realized exactly who the hell her brother was talking about. “Oh, right, because perfect sainted _Elizabeth_ knows your life,” she growled. “She’s the one who couldn’t handle it. I’m still here. I got kidnapped, didn’t I? Did I run to someone else? Did I leave Jason?”

“No.” Sonny met her eyes. “You got kidnapped for five hours. Not weeks. Not trapped in the dark.” He closed his eyes. “I should have been a better friend. I should have explained it to him. Trapped in the dark. You do anything to make the dark go away.”

“You’re too drunk to talk to,” she muttered, starting across the room. She turned around. “Right now, you’re blaming me. You’re blaming Elizabeth for not staying. Me for calling the police. Look in the goddamn mirror, Sonny. The only person here to blame is _you_!”

Courtney stabbed a finger at him. “ _You_ put Carly in danger, Sonny. Just like you do to everyone in your life. How lucky are we that Michael wasn’t grabbed, too? You couldn’t protect Carly any more than you could protect him. He’s traumatized and you’re down here getting drunk. Some fucking father and husband you turned out to be.”

She slammed the door behind her as she left the penthouse, the door frame cracking.

Sonny opened his eyes and blanched. “You’re not here. You’re not here,” he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. But when he opened them again, Lily just smiled at him. That sweet smile.

“You couldn’t protect me either, Sonny. You’re not supposed to be a father.” Lily tilted her head. “You should have known better.”

**General Hospital: Monica’s Office**

Elizabeth stared at the lab report and swallowed hard. “How- _how_ long did you say you could trace the…” She looked up at met Monica’s kind but worried eyes. “Not…not just a month…”

“The hair follicle test suggests it’s around January. Not in great doses—”

Elizabeth closed her eyes as Monica continued, remembering the home cooked dinners he’d made her once he’d moved into his own apartment in February. The spontaneous pastries and treats he had brought to work. The wine he’d brought to her the night her grandmother had been buried.

“Why…why would he—” She swallowed hard. “Why would someone use Valium to drug someone? You said the doses weren’t—”

“It’s used to treat anxiety mostly,” Monica told her. “Panic disorders—” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know why he started to drug you back then. To keep you calm?”

“I guess.” Elizabeth slid her fingers over the report. “I haven’t felt well since my grandmother passed away. I’ve—I’ve had trouble sleeping. Eating.”

“He might have been trying to help you at first, but at some point—” Monica hesitated. “It’s possible you’ve developed a tolerance, and he had to keep increasing the dosage—”

Her breath seized. “Oh, God, is _this_ why I had the miscarriage? Does this—”

“Valium use during the first trimester can cause malformations, defects.” Monica shook her head. “But not necessarily a miscarriage, though it’s likely—” She bit her lip.

“It’s likely for the best that it happened because my baby would have been damaged.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “It just _never_ stops. He’s been drugging me for months—I nearly died—and if our child had lived—” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “What—what happens next? I mean—I don’t know—I don’t understand it—He let me drive—I could have _killed_ someone on Saturday—”

“Elizabeth—” Monica stopped as her intercom beeped. “Yes?”

_“Ah, Dr. Quartermaine, your son is here. He said he’s expected.”_

“Oh, right, I asked Jason to meet here because Ric’s at the house.” Elizabeth sighed.

“I can have him wait, Elizabeth, while we talk—”

“I’d just have to go over this with him—he knows I’m here for my results.” And even if she didn’t want to tell him—somehow, she knew she had to. She couldn’t live with this on her own.

“Send him in.”

A moment later, Jason entered the office, his expression hesitant. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—I could still wait outside—”

“No, it’s…” Elizabeth handed him the lab report, knowing Jason would understand it. “It turns out he turned me into a drug addict.” She looked back at Monica. “Because I can’t sleep. And—I feel—” She held out her hand which shook slightly. “I think I’m in withdrawal.”

Jason scowled. “He’s been drugging you since _January_?”

“Well, what I’d like to do, Elizabeth, is to check you into the hospital overnight and we could talk about some things you could do—” Monica nodded. “But I can see from your expression that’s not going to happen.”

“Ric would find out if I was in the hospital overnight,” she told her. “He’s leaving the house more. Looking for office space, but maybe he’s looking for a place to move Carly.”

Jason grimaced. “Elizabeth, this is about your _health_ —”

“We knew Ric was drugging me. We knew it wasn’t just on Friday,” Elizabeth interrupted. “This doesn’t change anything—”

“Your symptoms could get worse, Elizabeth,” Monica pressed. “They can last up to two weeks—” She bit off her words. “I can’t watch you walk out of here, knowing that you risk that animal doing this again—”

“Keep the lab report.” Elizabeth took it back from Jason and handed it to Monica. “Because I might—we might need proof later. But—this can’t keep going on, right? He’ll move Carly this week. We’ll find her. And then, I promise, Monica, anything you want me to do—I’ll do it.”

Monica scowled. “Elizabeth—”

“I’ve made it this far.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, fought back the urge to just scream at them both. She was a goddamn adult and could make her own decisions. “Thank you. I know you’re worried.” She looked at Jason. “I know you’re _both_ worried. But knowing that he’s been doing this to me—I have to help take him down. I _have_ to be part of it. I can’t just fly away to California.”

“If he hasn’t moved Carly this week,” Jason said slowly, “we’ll figure out something else. But this is it, Elizabeth. After Friday—” He swallowed hard, likely upset at the idea that Carly could continue to be missing for that long— “We try something new.”

“Thank you.” She looked back to Monica. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Monica sighed and looked at her watch. “I have to make my rounds. You can use the office as long as you need to. And keep my number on speed dial, Elizabeth.”

With another unsure sigh, Monica left.

“I know you don’t agree,” Elizabeth said when she was gone. “But—”

“The only reason I’m not throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you kicking and screaming onto a plane is because you’d just turn around and come right back.” Jason swallowed. “I don’t know if Carly is even alive, Elizabeth. And every minute you’re in that house, you might end up dead, too—”

“She’s alive.” Elizabeth touched his arm. “She _has_ to be. There’s no reason for Ric to do anything to her. I think—I think he’s trying to replace our baby.”

“What?” Jason demanded, his face draining of color. “What do you mean?”

“Before—before we moved,” she said. “When I came home after losing the baby—he wanted to try again. Immediately. For a couple of days, it was _all_ he could talk about. I think he thought I’d leave him.” She sighed. “He was right. I only married him because I was pregnant, scared, and alone. But then he stopped talking about it. And he bought the house. And now…I basically told him I don’t want to get pregnant again. I don’t sleep in the same room. And he keeps telling me everything will be fine—that we’ll have our family and I’ll understand.”

Jason sat down in one of Monica’s chairs. “You think—”

“I think he’s got Carly somewhere—alive—and he’s planning on taking her baby. It would be justice. Taking Sonny’s child because he thinks Sonny took ours.” Joke was on Ric—Ric had murdered their child long before Elizabeth was pushed down those steps. “I don’t know _who_ pushed me—”

“That’s who I should be looking for. I should have been looking for them all along.” He stood back up. “Because the police report said you were pushed, they just didn’t have any suspects.”

‘The report—” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Ric said the police didn’t—” She huffed. “Of course, he lied about that, too. He said the police weren’t interested—but they _did_ look into it.”

“Taggert likes you,” Jason said plainly. “And he thought he could get Sonny. But Sonny was caught on camera in the parking lot. He questioned Sonny, but—he seemed to think it wasn’t likely Sonny would use you to get at Ric.”

“I never thought he would.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “But someone did. I—I don’t know why I haven’t really—could finding that out help us find out where Carly is?”

“I know Ric kidnapped her on his own, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working with someone since he came to Port Charles. “Jason hesitated. “What do you know about Ned working with Ric?”

“Ned?” she repeated. “I mean—I think Ric handled some property stuff for ELQ after Sonny and Carly fired him—” She hesitated. “But Ned hates you. And—And I know Ned has…worked with Faith Roscoe. She…. _really_ hates me.”

“Faith?” Jason shook his head. “Why?”

“Because—” Elizabeth looked away. “Because I—of Ric. I don’t know if they were—I don’t know. But she’s been…. around.”

“Okay.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I can look into them. Is—is Cody working out okay?”

“Yeah, he’s great. And it’s been—” Her throat felt thick as she tried to continue. “I’ve felt a lot safer knowing he was right outside if I needed him. Thank you.”

“I wish like hell you’d just leave, but I don’t have time to argue that again. I have to meet Justus and Sonny—” Jason hesitated. “You’ll call or text me in an hour?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “I promise.” She picked up her purse. “I should get going. If I get home first, I can order dinner in and not have to make excuses.”

Jason followed her out, but they split up at the end of the hall. She took the elevator down to the lobby, and he took the stairs.

**Corinthos Penthouse: Hallway**

When Jason stepped off the elevator, he was surprised to find Justus waiting outside the door with Max. He frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“Sonny isn’t letting me in,” Justus said with a sigh. “He’s…Max said he’s having a rough day.”

They looked at Max, who just shrugged. “Miss Matthews was over earlier, and they had words.” Jason scowled at the thought of his fiancée—whatever good sense he and Sonny had attributed to Courtney had disappeared since Friday night and her call to the cops.

Courtney had done nothing but be a nuisance for four days straight.

Jason stepped past Max and knocked. “Sonny—”

Sonny jerked the door open, his black hair disheveled, his eyes red. “Did you find her?”

“No, but—”

“Don’t come back until you do.”

He slammed the door. Jason glanced at Justus, who looked as troubled as Jason felt. It had taken only days for Sonny to hit the edge of what he could handle—

And Jason wasn’t sure he had the time or energy to drag Sonny back from the abyss.

“Is—anyone home at my place?” Jason said hesitantly. The fact that he was dreading the thought of facing Courtney told him he had some decisions to make when this was all over.

“Miss Matthews went to the Brownstone. She took Michael to see his grandmother when he woke up from his nap.”

“We can go to my place,’ Jason told Justus.

“It’s fine,” Justus said, with a wave of his hand. “I just wanted to let you know that we got the injunction against the search warrants of the commercial properties. It’s going to give us some breathing room to get things in order, but there’s a hearing next week.”

“By then, this should be over. “Jason didn’t want to think about how horrible it would be for all of them to be living in this nightmare much longer.

“If it isn’t,” Justus continued, “the odds are that they’ll grant the warrant. Should—should I let Johnny O’Brien continue taking care of what needs to be done?”

“Yeah.” They looked towards Sonny’s closed door. “Yeah.  Johnny and Tommy know what to do. You—you can touch base with me for a few days. I think we need to give Sonny some space.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

The room was dark—the only light slipped through the curtains he’d drawn across his windows. Sonny sat on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace, his knees drawn up, a bottle of whiskey at his side—he’d gone through the vodka once Courtney had taken Michael to Bobbie’s and moved on to what was left.

Courtney was right. They were all right. He was a drunk who couldn’t protect his family. Why did he think he could have children? Why did he think God would stop punishing him?

“That’s right,” Lily said, her smile warm and encouraging. She slid the whiskey closer to him. “That’s right, Sonny. You will never be a father. Everything you touch dies. You’re poison.”

“You’re not real,” Sonny muttered, bringing the whiskey to his lips, desperate to make her go away, even if he had to black out to do it.

“No, I’m dead. And it’s your fault. It’s _your_ fault your son is dead. All of your sons.” A smile spread across Lily’s face—a malevolent smile that his sweet wife had never had in real life. Was he being haunted? Was he being tortured?  “For all you know, Carly is already dead. So, drink up Sonny, until you’re too drunk to care.”


	8. Chapter Eight

_You can't play on broken strings_  
 _You can't feel anything that your heart don't want to feel_  
 _I can't tell you something that ain't real_  
 _Well the truth hurts_  
 _And lies worse_  
 _How can I give anymore_  
 _When I love you a little less than before_  
\- Broken Strings, James Morrison

* * *

_Wednesday, June 25, 2003_

**Lansing Home: Panic Room**

He came in the dark when the rest of the world had gone to sleep.

The first time, she had tried to scream when the door slid open, but he only laughed at her. No one could hear her—not the woman sleeping upstairs. He’d drugged her that first night.

And after that night, Ric assured Carly that he’d found ways to continue drugging his wife. He kept the pills in a locked box high on a metal shelf in the panic room—even if Carly could get to it, there was no way to open it.  No way to destroy them.  The chain wrapped around her ankle didn’t allow her to get very far across the room.

Every night he brought her food meant to last her until the next night. She watched as he took pills from bottles—birth control to prevent pregnancy and Valium to keep Elizabeth asleep at night.

He mixed the pills into ice cube trays, freezing the pills so that Elizabeth wouldn’t know they were there. Always in every cube, one of each pill to make sure she ingested them.

And Ric was right—every day, Elizabeth drank glasses of water with those ice cubes. Ric thought it was amusing—he knew his wife didn’t trust him— _knew_ there was a kernel of doubt in her mind.

He no longer tried to make her dinners, said nothing when she ordered out or made food for them both even though he was the better cook, he told Carly. Because Elizabeth drank the water without protest.

Carly was horrified—didn’t he worry that she might get sick? That she might take too much Valium?

He wasn’t—now that he was no longer drugging her in the food, he could control her intake more carefully. And the water likely diluted the dosage. He didn’t foresee any problems—he was sure it would be okay until the day her child was born.

Because then Elizabeth wouldn’t need him to drug her. The Valium was to keep her calm, to keep her biddable. If he gave her a baby—through private adoption—then he could stop giving her drugs.

She’d stay with him for the baby. She’d married him for the baby, after all.

Carly knew she’d talked Elizabeth into keeping the child and wished like hell she’d told Elizabeth to go for abortion.

It was nearly four in the morning when the door slid open on maybe the fourth or fifth night of her captivity—Carly was having trouble keeping track.

Ric set a tray of food on the far table, putting some water bottles in the fridge, the chilled soup—the sandwiches. She lay on her side on the cot, staring at him. Not engaging him in conversation.

He was the only link she had with the outside world, but Carly had no interest in talking to him.

Ric Lansing was a psychopath. A monster. Whatever psychological label doctors would put on him—he was wrong in the head—and Carly just wanted her freedom.

She’d watched Jason every day—watched him search. Watched Elizabeth search. She knew the other woman was on her side—prayed Elizabeth wouldn’t get sick, that Ric wouldn’t put her in any more danger.

As each day passed, she could see the hope fading from their expressions, even through the dimly lit screens. They were beginning to think she wasn’t in the house or that there weren’t any clues—and Carly couldn’t blame them.

Jason and Sonny were capable of violence—Carly had no illusions about the men in her life—but Ric was different. There was a deranged streak in his brain that allowed him to claim he loved his wife even as he regularly drugged her. A man who planned to kill a woman for her baby—

Carly knew he wasn’t going to wait until November when her child was due—the child growing inside of her could be viable as soon as September—and after that she would be useless to him.

“I’ll bring some magazines later today,” Ric said as he reached for the lock box. He counted out pills from each bottle and slipped them into a plastic bag. “I don’t want you getting too bored.”

Carly didn’t answer. She’d spent the first few days screaming at him, begging him. Reasoning with him.

But there was _nothing_ inside him to reason with. The charming, smooth, sophisticated face he’d shown to the world for the last six months had been nothing more than a mask to hide the monster beneath.

She saw the true Ric now—the emptiness in his eyes. He was obsessed with his wife—had given up a plan to take out Sonny because of Elizabeth, or so he said—but Carly knew better. It wasn’t Elizabeth that had changed the course of Ric’s plan—no, it was the _child_. A baby that had given Ric the idea of extending his own existence—of creating another Ric.

He wanted the child—Elizabeth gave him the excuse, the cover to show the rest of the world.

Carly would be damned if she’d help him take her child and destroy Elizabeth in the process. She would hold tight to Jason and Sonny, to her faith in them. They would _never_ stop looking for her, she knew that. And if sometimes that belief felt a little far away—she chalked it up to the darkness she lived with. Even with all the lights in the panic room switched on, the room could never mimic true sunlight.

Carly didn’t plan to die here in the dark and surrender her child to Ric Lansing. She would hold on to her sanity until Jason found her.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

It was with a great deal of reluctance that Jason opened the door to his penthouse, though the place hadn’t really felt like home in months. He’d told Courtney she could decorate it however she wanted, thinking that he didn’t really give a damn.

The truth was that he _did_ care a little about what his apartment looked like—he just hadn’t realized it until Courtney had decorated it with elaborate furniture, knick knacks, and some sort of cabinet that made it almost impossible to use his pool table.

He hadn’t returned to the penthouse since the cops had searched it—had spent Saturday night with his tech guys, Stan Johnson and Damien Spinelli, putting together the surveillance for the house.

Sunday night, he’d been at the warehouse, making sure that everything was in place if they were raided, and he’d spent the last few nights watching footage of the Lansing house. They had only put cameras in areas of the house where Ric spent time alone—but it gave Jason some small comfort when he saw Elizabeth walk past those rooms—she’d made it through another night.

She called him every hour as promised or sent him short texts with nothing more than the words _im ok_ —letting him know when she planned to sleep, when she woke up. It had done little to alleviate his discomfort that she remained in the house, so completely under Ric’s control, but Elizabeth was stubborn in her belief that she could help Carly best by staying close.

It was just past six that morning when Jason came in, worn out from another night watching the surveillance. They had learned nothing, and Jason was beginning to doubt there was anything to learn from the house.

While he hated the idea that it had been a dead end, at least he would be able to convince Elizabeth to desert her post and maybe, just _maybe_ , she’d let him send her to Emily where she’d be safe.

He tried to be quiet as he took a duffel bag out of the closet in the master bedroom and took some clothes from the dresser, but the figure in the bed rolled over, blearily calling his name.

“Jason?” Courtney jack knifed into a sitting position. “What are—did you find her?” She pushed back the thin blue sheets on the bed and swung her legs out over the edge, getting to her feet. “Did you—”

“No.” Jason straightened, a clutch of t-shirts in his hand. “No. I—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I was just getting a change of clothing—”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the color of lips fading into her skin. She switched on the bedside lamp. “You’re taking them _with_ you. Why?” she demanded, her voice crackling with irritation, hands fisted at her hips, causing the silk night shirt she wore to bunch up.

Jason paused, then put the clothes inside the bag. “Because it will be easier,” he said after a moment. He meant every word of that statement. It _would_ be easier for him to do what needed to be done if he didn’t have to come home to Courtney’s accusing eyes.

What exactly he was being accused of, Jason couldn’t say. His own anger hadn’t faded—the woman he’d intended to marry had not only called the police but allowed them to search his home. He couldn’t deal with Ric the way he wanted to with all eyes on him, with the cops breathing down their necks at work—

And somehow, Courtney had put _herself_ in the position of being the victim, of looking so goddamn hurt when he and Sonny had criticized her for doing it.

It was easier to focus on Carly and keeping Elizabeth safe if he didn’t have to look at Courtney.

“Easier,” Courtney repeated. “Fine. Well, I wouldn’t want to _distract_ you from finding Carly.” She folded her arms. “Have you been back to see Elizabeth?” she demanded.

Jason blinked at her. “What?”

“Sonny said Ric drugged her—or at least that’s what you believe. The cops obviously didn’t agree.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “Courtney—”

“I mean, how do you know _sh_ e didn’t help?” Courtney demanded. “She’s always hated Carly, and everyone seems to think Ric is obsessed with her. Maybe Elizabeth blamed Sonny for her miscarriage, too. Maybe she snapped, and Ric helped her—”

Jason stopped listening and returned to the dresser. He put several pairs of jeans in the bag, some briefs, and socks. His deodorant, a comb—

“Jason—” Her voice was shrill now and she yanked on his arm. “ _I’m_ your fiancée. Why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t _I_ get to know what’s going on? What you’re doing to find Carly—”

“Because I don’t trust you,” Jason snapped without thinking, and they both stared at each other.

Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. “I made a mistake. I—panicked. I wanted to help Carly. She’s my best friend, and I just wanted her found. I was scared you would hurt Ric before he told us where to find her. I thought they’d _find_ her—”

“I might be able to believe that if you hadn’t called them right away. If you hadn’t let them search.” Jason shook his head and zipped the duffel. “The truth is that you didn’t take it that seriously. You figured it was Ric which meant it wasn’t business, and the rules didn’t apply—”

“You asked Taggert for help last year when Elizabeth was missing!” Courtney shot back. “Is _she_ more special than Carly? She was worth breaking the rules for—”

Jason bowed his head. AJ or Edward must have told Courtney about it—or maybe Sonny and Carly had mentioned it. Elizabeth hadn’t known, so— “Asking Taggert wasn’t my first choice,” he said slowly. “But I _was_ desperate, and he could get information I couldn’t. If I hadn’t asked him for help, she’d be dead—”

“How can you judge me because _I_ was scared—”

“You didn’t even give Sonny and me a chance to deal with it,” Jason retorted. He started for the door.

“Oh, so what, you would have called the police later?” She sprinted after him as he went down the hallway. “Damn it, Jason, don’t you _dare_ leave right now—”

He stopped on the stairs. “I have things to do, Courtney. We can deal with this later—”

She scowled. “I bet you make time for your precious Elizabeth. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Sonny told me this was my fault because I’m not her, and you agree. _She_ would have known the rules.”

Jason had no answer for that, so he continued down the stairs. He didn’t even know what to say to Courtney. How to tell her that in the last five days, he’d realized exactly how close he’d come to ruining his life and marrying her.

So, he said nothing and left. In the elevator, his phone beeped, and he looked down at the at text.

_im up. ok._

He exhaled slowly, gripping the phone more tightly, and a half a smile curved up the corner of his lips, but there was no joy, no happiness. Just relief. They’d made it through another night.  How many more were left?

**Kelly’s: Courtyard**

Lucky watched through the windows as Lulu attempted to balance a tray of breakfast dishes with one hand. “She’s not good at this, is she?” he asked his aunt.

Bobbie blinked at him, then mindlessly stirred her tea. “No,” she sighed. “She’s cost herself more in broken dishes than she’s probably made in pay, but well…she’s not our _first_ waitress to fail so completely.” She managed a half smile. “Elizabeth was pretty bad, too, remember?”

He only dimly could remember Elizabeth’s early days at Kelly’s, but he did have a few memories of Ruby chewing her out, and Elizabeth complaining that she wasn’t making any money.

“So, hopefully time will solve that problem.” He touched his aunt’s hand. “I know this week has been tough. You’re holding up well.”

“Clinging to desperation, really. I keep hoping something will happen—a lead will come through—someone will know something, have seen something—” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand. “What do you hear at the PCPD?”

“Not much. They asked me to pull a few shifts sitting outside of Elizabeth’s house. Mostly overnight.” Lucky shrugged. “No one ever leaves.” He stifled a yawn. “I was there last night—I was on my way home to get some sleep when I stopped by to see Lu.”

“I’m glad the PCPD is keeping someone on her house. It must be hard for you not to step in, not to do more for her,” Bobbie murmured. “Even though you didn’t end well.”

Lucky hesitated, then nodded. “Cruz mostly takes the day shift—he says Jason has a bodyguard on her. And Jason’s at the house a lot. I know—I know he’ll take care of her.” He was pretty sure of that. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to get along with Jason all that well, but he remembered Jason better before the fire—and he’d liked Jason then. And once he’d stopped trying to keep Elizabeth in his life, it was easier not to see Jason as an enemy.

“He’s trying, but you know Elizabeth. Stubborn to the end.” Bobbie stirred her tea again, but still didn’t take a drink. “How is your first week going?”

“Not great,” Lucky admitted. “The PCPD is basically what I thought it was. There are some okay cops, but most of them are lazy if not outright corrupt. My supervisor is an asshole.” He rolled his shoulders. “He caught a rape before I started and had me come with him to take another statement from her. Aunt Bobbie, he came pretty close to telling her it was _her_ fault. For walking in the park in a short dress.” His throat tightened. “I thought about…talking to Taggert about it. Because he was—he worked on Elizabeth’s case.”

“And, of course, it makes you think of her.” Bobbie tilted her head. “That poor girl. You _should_ talk to him.”

“I’ve been on the job for five days. If I start complaining about my superiors now, I don’t get to come back from that.” Lucky shifted. “Dante and Cruz already hate it here.”

“It’s…not the police department I remember. Particularly when Robert or Anna was in charge and Frisco was on the force.” A ghost of a smile flitted on her lips. “Or Sean. You don’t remember them, do you?”

“No…I don’t.” Lucky sighed. “I know I did this because Baldwin didn’t think I could, but—”

“Don’t give up yet.” Bobbie squeezed his hand. “After we find Carly, things will calm down and maybe you’ll feel more comfortable taking your concerns to Taggert or Mac.”

“Yeah. After we find Carly,” Lucky repeated.

**Port Charles Grille**

It was maybe the fourth time Brooke Lynn rolled eyes dramatically that Ned noticed the blonde over his daughter’s shoulder.  He froze, taken out of the moment, taken away from an awkward, tense dinner and thrust into the memory of his last meeting with the toxic blonde who now raised a glass of wine in his direction with a smirk.

He looked at his brother, Dillon, and to their other dinner partner, Alexis, and then slowly put his napkin on the table. “I have to step out for a minute and take a phone call.”

“Of course you do,” Brooke muttered. “This is supposed to be a family dinner isn’t it?”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised. He made eye contact first with Faith, then with Alexis who only sighed. She was used to Quartermaine antics and decided it was better to distract the teenagers than argue.

“Tell me how your summer jobs are going.”

He could hear Brooke complaining about Lila’s Kids, the charity summer camp ELQ sponsored at Port Charles Park during the summer. Dillon and Maxie Jones had volunteered as counselors, and Ned was trying to convince Brooke to join them.

Maybe it was a mistake to try to force a relationship with Brooke, but Ned had allowed Lois to take control over her childhood for too long—had acquiesced when Lois wanted to keep her or if Brooke wanted to stay in Bensonhurst. He’d distanced himself from his daughter, telling himself he was saving her from the Quartermaines when the truth was he hadn’t known how to be a father or whether to trust he’d be any good at it.

And maybe now it was too late.

He only had to wait in the reception area outside the restaurant for a few minutes before Faith Roscoe sauntered out, her spaghetti-strapped black dress cut too low at the chest and high on the thigh for the standards of most restaurants.

“I see you’ve missed me,” she murmured as she joined him in the dark corner. “This is a bit too public for me, but maybe—”

“I told you I’m _out_ ,” Ned said, his teeth clenched. “I want no part of this—” He grabbed her wrist as it tried to slide up his chest. “Kidnapping Carly wasn’t the plan—”

“It certainly wasn’t,” Faith agreed in her breathless sing-song voice. He’d once found that tone mildly attractive. Now the crazy light in her eyes only repulsed him. “And Ric _wil_ l pay for it. He’s made some enemies—”

“Did you know about the Zaccharas?” Ned demanded. “About Ric and Sonny? You said you didn’t—”

“If I had known Ric had any other loyalties but me, I would have dealt with it.” Faith pouted and stepped back. “I brought him into this. This was supposed to be _ou_ r revenge, not his. He’s stolen my moment.” She drew her brows down. “I’ll have to punish him.”

Ned hesitated. “Why don’t you just tell Jason and Sonny where Carly is? Isn’t _that_ punishment enough?”

“I would if I could.” Faith huffed. “Apparently, since Ric discovered he can reproduce, he’s less interested in me. If he’d wanted a kid so badly, I’m sure I could have done…” She waved her hand. “Done something. But he’s obsessed with that little pale princess.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to send him a _warning_. Remind him to focus. If he can’t focus without her around, I supposed I’ll just have to—”

“Don’t—just leave _her_ out of this, Faith.”

Faith tilted her head. “I thought _you_ wanted to be out of this.” She leaned in, her blood-red rips brushing against his ear as she whispered. “You don’t want your little girl to know how naughty her daddy has been, do you?”

“No.” Ned gritted his teeth, put his hands on her shoulders and set her back a step. “I _am_ out of it, Faith. Take your revenge on Ric. Elizabeth has suffered enough.”

“You’re no fun anymore.” Faith sighed. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Neddy. You should remember that.” She tapped her index finger against his chest, the nail polish matching her lips. “You take care of your daughter. I’d hate to see any harm come to her.”

“Don’t you threaten me—”

“Don’t _you_ play with _me_.” Faith pursed her lips, then smiled. “I’ll let you have your little rebellion. I have other matters to attend to, but when I call, you’d better come running.”

**Lansing Home: Living Room**

Elizabeth stepped off the steps just as the front door opened and her husband stepped over the threshold. Jason had just slipped out the back door—warned by the guard on Ric that he was headed home. Elizabeth had stayed in Ric’s study an extra moment to make sure it looked as it did when they’d arrived.

Another day of searching had brought them no closer to Carly’s location, and Ric hadn’t done anything to indicate he was moving her. She could see the wheels turning in Jason’s head, and she knew that she’d have to keep her promise. Without any leads by Friday, she’d have to let him send her to California, or at the very least—leave the house.

Ric smiled when he saw her, and she plastered a smile on her face, accepted the kiss to her lips, even as her stomach curled in knots. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” she murmured. “I went to the studio this morning, did some work.” She went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water and dropped some ice cubes into it. Water was safe—it was the only thing she allowed herself to drink now, and she only ate food she prepared or bought herself.

If Ric noticed her new penchant for cooking, he had said nothing. He poured himself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher. “You think you’re ready to set a date for that show?”

“Oh...probably by the end of August, I guess.” Elizabeth lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure I’m ready, but I know you went to a lot of trouble to set it up.” It had seemed sweet at the time, a way to bring her out of the fogginess and lows after her miscarriage.

Fogginess his drugs had caused her.

“If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” He tipped his head. “You were in the guest room again last night. Are you planning to spend the rest of our marriage in there?” Ric attempted to make the statement light, but she could read the expression in his eyes. He was coming closer to pushing her on this.

And…was that a step she was willing to take? To let Ric…touch her? Sleep with him again? Was it worth the chance to find Carly?

No. No, if Ric pushed her on this, then that was her line in the sand, but still her stomach continued to knot as she forced some of her water down. She set the glass aside. “No,” she said softly. “I’m just…I guess maybe I’m not handling things that well. I—I—Carly is still missing. A-and the cops are outside—I’m surprised the papers haven’t seen it—they’re all over the place about her kidnapping.”

“You said you believed me,” Ric said, his jaw clenched. “Are you l _ying_ to me?”

“No.” God. “No,” she said again. “It’s just—I mean…Bobbie is starting to have doubts. She—” Elizabeth chewed on her lip. “She came by—she’s angry that no one has found Carly, and she’s thinking that if you did it, they’d have found her by now. I told her that, and maybe…maybe it means the PCPD is going to look somewhere else.”

“Good.” Ric’s shoulders eased, and he nodded. “Then—”

“I don’t know. It’s just…mostly, I don’t _want_ to have…” She swallowed. “I still love you, but I don’t…have any…” And that was true—had been true even before she’d learned the truth of the monster lurking inside the man she’d married. She knew that was a side effect of the drugs he’d been giving her, at least partially. Would he know that?

Ric exhaled slowly and looked away. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense. Have you thought about talking to someone? Trying to sort through it?”

“I was hoping time would take care of it.” Elizabeth picked up her glass, swiping at the water ring left on the counter. They didn’t have central air conditioning, and the kitchen was always too warm. Her ice had mostly melted. She sipped it again. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe Bobbie can recommend someone.”

“Good.” He leaned forward, kissed her again, and she allowed it. “I’ll let you relax. I’m late tonight, I’m sorry. I missed dinner.”

“It’s okay. I grabbed something at Kelly’s.” Or Cody had brought dinner for them as they sorted through his papers, and Elizabeth had forced some food down only so that Jason would eat as well. She worried about him—was _he_ getting any sleep?

She managed to fall asleep every night though she woke up groggy in the morning as if it was a restless sleep. Her health was all over the place, and she was looking forward to this being over.

“We must have missed each other,” Ric said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He played with a tendril of her hair and she forced herself to remain still, to even look at him with soft eyes. “I know it’s been stressful…with the baby, with Carly—”

“I almost feel like we can’t really begin our lives until we know…until we find her, you know? Until we know who really took her. People will _always_ look at you—”

“We may not be able to stay in Port Charles,” Ric said with a sigh. “Maybe we’ll move closer to Crimson Point and I’ll join my father’s practice after all. We’ll have to see how it goes.” He kissed her again. “I’m going to look over some contracts for the places I found this week. I’m close to signing one.”

“Okay. I’ll probably go to the bed early. Maybe a shower or something.” She accepted one last kiss before he left the kitchen and then reached for the water. She drank it until the glass was empty, then filled it again with more ice and water. She really needed to get a portable air conditioner.

“My next house is going to have central,” she muttered as she started for the stairs, and sighed at the pettiness and smallness of the thought. Carly was being kept captive somewhere, and she was worrying about herself and her own comfort.

**Lansing Home: Guest Bedroom**

Elizabeth set her water on the bedside and locked the door behind her. She went into the adjoining bathroom with her purse and locked that door as well before letting the shower run.

She dug her phone from its hidden pocket and set the purse on the vanity table. She checked her watch—she was a little early checking in, but she knew Jason worried when Ric was in the same house. He’d probably reached wherever Stan and Spinelli were watching them—and had maybe even seen the scene in the kitchen.

She pressed two until it dialed, then sat on the closed toilet seat, biting at her nails until he answered.

_“Hey.”_

“Hey.” Elizabeth’s eyes watered at the sound of his voice, at the concern. “Hey. Um. He’s thinking about signing a lease for a place, so maybe—”

_“Maybe he’s getting ready to move her.”_

“Yeah.” Elizabeth moved and sat on the floor next to the shower stall, in the corner furthest from the door. Furthest away from Ric. “That’s—we were in the kitchen—”

_“I saw.” His tone was short and clipped._

Her chest tightened, and she let her head slump against the wall. “I’m sorry. I _had_ to let—”

_“Elizabeth—”_

“He was trying to find out why I’m still in the guest room—you don’t care about this. I’m just—I’m checking in for the night, I’m locked in my room—”

_“Hey…” His tone was quieter now, and some of the hum that had been in the background had disappeared, as if he’d left the room. “Are you okay?”_

“No,” she admitted. A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m afraid he’s not going to take no for answer for long. I—I told him I didn’t want to, and I think he thought about the drugs, but maybe I should so he doesn’t—”

_“No! You don’t—Damn it. I’ll pick you up right now—”_

“No, no—” Elizabeth shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “No. I’m okay. For tonight. And probably a few more days. I told him I’m going to talk to someone. We’ll find her soon.”

_“Friday, Elizabeth—”_

“I was thinking maybe we need—” Elizabeth took another deep breath. “I was thinking we might need more cameras. Maybe we didn’t—you said Ric gets up in the middle of the night sometimes. He goes downstairs, but he doesn’t leave.”

_“Yeah, we thought maybe he was doing something in the basement, but we’ve looked there—”_

“So, tomorrow, we’ll put cameras in the places they’re not now. Um. The living room, the basement, and the other guest room—” The room Ric had quietly said he’d thought would be the nursery when they were ready to think about it. “Can you—maybe you can put a camera or something inside his car.”

_“We did that—” There was a pause as Jason apparently went back into the room with the others. She heard him murmuring to others. “Yeah. Stan agrees. Do you think we can do it tomorrow?”_

“Maybe. I won’t know until I see him.” She closed her eyes. “I want this to be over. I want to be done with him.”

_“Justus has divorce papers waiting,” Jason told her after a minute of silence. “Notice of separation. The second you want out—”_

“It’s almost done. It has to be.” Elizabeth sighed. “I should—I should go.” But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay curled up in this room, listening to Jason’s voice. She knew she was safe when he was on the phone with her.

_“Elizabeth—any time of the night—you know I’m here.”_

“I do. That’s how I get through it.” She got to her feet, took a look at herself in the mirror that was quickly steaming up. She almost couldn’t recognize herself. “Good night.”

_“Good night, Elizabeth.”_


	9. Chapter Nine

_As you turn to your mind,_  
 _And your thoughts they rewind,_  
 _To old happenings and things that are done,_  
 _You can't find what's passed,_  
 _Make that happiness last,_  
 _Seeing from those eyes what you become,_  
 _What you become_  
\- Haunt, Bastille

* * *

_Friday, June 27, 2003_

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Scott scowled and threw his hands up. “How can we be nowhere after a week?” he demanded.  “Where the hell is she?”

“If we knew that, we’d have her,” Capelli growled. He jabbed his finger at Scott. “If your office could get me my damn warrants—”

“What the hell good is it going to do to search Corinthos and Morgan’s properties?” Scott dismissed it. “You have no probable cause and I’ll be shocked as hell if the judge says anything differently next week.” He looked at Mac. “If I have to take one more angry call from the fucking mayor and be told it’s an election year one more time—what the hell have your men been _doing_?”

Mac sighed. “We don’t have a lot of leads, Scott. You gotta give us a break—we had _one_ eye witness—a six-year-old kid who was almost too terrified to even give a statement. He saw Ric. Great. We’ve investigated Lansing. We’ve had him under twenty-four-hour surveillance. He goes from his house to search out offices around town and then home again. What do you want me to do?”

Scott sat down on the sofa, put his head in his hands. “I _can’t_ tell Bobbie that we can’t find her daughter. She’s already looking at us like we’re useless, and hell, maybe we are.”

“Hey,” Capelli said. “We’re trying our best—”

“If we hadn’t showed up last week, Corinthos and Morgan would have hung that piece of shit by his dick and they’d have found Carly in hours.” Disgusted with himself, he continued, “That’s where I am, people. I wish like hell our resident gangsters could have free rein because _we_ can’t do shit.”

“We’re pursuing the Zacchara angle,” Capelli insisted. “It’s gotta be it. We know about the wife of someone he had blown up a few years ago. Corinthos’ wife goes missing, it’s _gotta_ be a warning or something. If we had done what I wanted and gotten someone on the inside—”

“No one outside of the inner circle knows what’s going on. That wouldn’t have done us any good.” He looked at Mac. “The press is eating us alive because we haven’t given them any leads. I can’t believe Lansing’s name hasn’t leaked.”

“That’s because Corinthos threatened the papers,” Capelli said with a smirk. “I told you—they’re just waiting until _they_ can get their hands on Lansing. And then we’ll get them all. Lansing for kidnapping, and Corinthos and Morgan for attempted murder—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Corinthos and Morgan right now,” Scott snapped. “I care about the missing pregnant woman. I care about the mayor losing my number. I care about the voters who are threatening me with a recall election. They think we’ve been going after the grieving husband—you’ve hauled Corinthos and Morgan in for questioning more than any suspects—in fact, why the hell don’t I have any official police statements from Lansing and his wife?”

Mac raised his brows at his officer. “That _is_ a good question. You should have called the paramedics and forced Elizabeth to go to the hospital. We could have gotten him on drugging her. Made him cool his heels in the cell.”

“ _She_ wouldn’t go to the hospital,” Capelli retorted. “And she’s in this up to her goddamn elbows. I can’t figure out what game she’s playing. Either she’s in on it with Lansing or she’s screwing Morgan on the side because I got Jason Morgan going to that house every day as soon as Lansing leaves.”

“She’s letting him in to search,” Scott said after a moment. He exhaled slowly. “It’s obvious, you idiot. Read your own report. _She’s_ the one who granted permission for the search in the first place. She’s still there to give him access to Ric’s papers.” Scott gestured at him. “Mac, are all the officers on the case this goddamn _stupid_?”

“Hey. She’s helping, fine. But we’re not getting anywhere. Wouldn’t he have figured that out after the first day? They’re having some kind of affair.” Capelli narrowed his eyes. “We should leak _that_ to the press.”

“What?” Scott repeated, his eyes wide. “Leak _what_? Are you fucking insane—”

“Yeah,” Capelli continued with a nod, liking his own train of thought. “They got history. Everyone knows he’s been screwing her since she was barely legal. We leak the affair to the press, Lansing flips out. If he’s working alone, then he kidnapped Carly to get back at Sonny over the kid they lost. He might make a mistake.”

“You are not telling the press that two innocent parties to this investigation are having an affair,” Scott snarled. “Especially to get a rise out of Ric. If you’re right, he might kill Carly.”

“Shit, she’s probably already dead. He probably killed her that night or turned her over to the Zaccharas who wouldn’t have let her live long.” Capelli shrugged. He looked to Mac who had remained silent throughout this exchange. “This is still my case, Mac. Is he going to tell me how to investigate?”

“I’m telling you that you’re _not_ opening this department up for a lawsuit,” Scott seethed. “Get your men under control, Mac. And get some damn results. Lansing should be brought in for questioning.”

He stormed out of the office, leaving the two cops alone. Mac eyed his officer. “I don’t like it,” he said evenly.

“I’m not convinced she’s _not_ involved,” Capelli repeated. “The only reason we think Lansing drugged her is because we know she was high when we were there. She lost a kid, Mac. You’re telling me _that_ doesn’t screw with people? Maybe she and Lansing are both screwed up. Maybe she’s playing everyone. I don’t know. I haven’t pushed because Taggert thinks she’s this innocent kid—but I think she’s proved that she’s not. She’s married to Ric Lansing, we both know she’s been dating Jason Morgan, she was up to her eyeballs in all the Cassadine shit—”

Mac waved at him. “Leak it,” he murmured. “To the _Sun_. A small gossip item, speculation or something. Make sure it doesn’t come back to us.” He hesitated. “I’m serious, Capelli. Not a single breadcrumb because when it hits the papers—” He looked away. “Scott’s going to kill us if he finds out I allowed this.”

“Hey, I know what I’m doing. It’s time to shake this case up.”

**Lansing House: Living Room**

Bobbie stepped over the threshold and examined Elizabeth with a critical eye. In the week since Carly had been kidnapped, she thought the younger woman had probably lost even more weight, giving her eyes a sunken in look—the bones of her collarbone prominent beneath the cream-colored tank top she wore.

“No news,” Bobbie said with an irritated sigh. “I talked to Scott and he said they’re _nowhere_.” She started to pace. “I don’t understand how she can just vanish.” She pressed her fingers to her to her temples. “I keep thinking what if we have it all wrong?”

Elizabeth sighed and closed the door. Her eyes blurred a bit and she stumbled as she turned. Damn it. How much longer would she be dealing with this withdrawal? Monica had told her to expect dizziness, nausea, being short of breath, restlessness—

She felt like she was going to come out of her skin if something didn’t happen soon.

“I know.” She sat down gingerly on the sofa, rubbing her arms. “Jason has been in to search every single day. I feel like we’ve gone over this house a thousand times. Every piece of paper—but nothing. I mean, it has to be Ric. There has to be a clue here. The evidence doesn’t fit any other scenario, but—” Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry. “We put more cameras in, so maybe we’ll get something from that. Maybe it’s just—maybe it’s just the drugs or coming off of them—but I almost feel like she’s watching me. Like there’s something here.”

Bobbie closed her eyes. “I know. Michael _saw_ Ric take her. He’s six, but he’s not stupid. He knew what Ric looked like. We know Ric drugged you. He mixed it with alcohol, so it was even more potent. He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t involved.”

“Maybe he didn’t bring her here,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe we were wrong about why he drugged me—maybe it was just so I wouldn’t notice he was gone.”

“I just can’t keep—” Bobbie scrubbed her hands over her face. “Everyone is looking at me with pity, like they think she’s _already_ dead. Jason looks like a zombie, you’re on the brink of a medical disaster because you’re not eating and sleeping, and my daughter—” She stopped.

“I’m terrified that we’re wrong. That we’ve spent the last week searching for dead ends, but—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “Jason said that no one from the Zacchara family was in the area. And if it was—if it was business, wouldn’t they _know_? I mean…when I was kidnapped last year, Jason knew about it. He knew who it was. He accidentally—” Her cheeks flushed. “The guy keeping me died so he couldn’t tell Jason where I was. But—that’s how this is supposed to work. You don’t take someone for leverage if you don’t want to _use_ the leverage.”

Bobbie frowned, folded her arms. “Jason has told you a lot, I see. More than he’s told me.”

“I—” She licked her lips again. They were so damn dry.  “We keep going over and _over_ everything. I think—I think he said Sonny is struggling, and I know from the papers that the PCPD is going after _them_. Jason said Sonny is working on keeping them out of jail, so Jason is looking for Carly. And I guess—I don’t think he’s keeping things from you, Bobbie.”

“No, no. I don’t think so either. I guess you’ve always known more about Jason’s business than you’ve let on.” She sighed, sat on the sofa. “I think about that Christmas a lot, you know. When I took care of Jason’s gunshot wound.”

“I try not to,” Elizabeth murmured. “I was so scared when I found him. And he was so damn stubborn. He didn’t want me to tell anyone, so I didn’t, but I didn’t know if I could really take care of him.”

“You did such a good job. I guess it just reminds me of Robin and Courtney.” Bobbie looked away. “Jason was shot before that—and Robin called 911, forced him to go to the hospital. And Courtney called the cops. Let them in to search the penthouse. Just—” She shook her head. “I don’t know what made me think of that winter in your studio.”

“Well, we’re working together—the three of us—for the first time since then,” Elizabeth pointed out with a half-smile. “And remembering how much of a pest Carly made herself. After that, she pretty much hated me.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Bobbie dipped her head. “I just want her _back_ , Elizabeth. I don’t know if we’ve missed something. If we’re all just—if we’re all just going in circles, going over the same information again and again. I wish there was someone we could take this to but there’s _not_. There’s no one who _gets_ it.”

“I know.” Elizabeth’s watch beeped, and she sighed as she reached for her purse. She dug around and pulled out her phone. “I have to check in with Jason.”

“He really meant every hour, huh?”

“Yeah…I fell asleep yesterday at the studio and missed a check in,” she murmured as she pressed the speed dial. “He called Cody within like…I don’t know, thirty seconds—Hey. Yeah, I’m fine. He’s not here. Office space again. He must be looking in every single building in the greater metropolitan area. Bobbie’s here—Okay. Yeah. Bye.” She closed the phone. “He’s at the penthouse with Justus. Sonny’s…having trouble so he had to take care of business today.” She put the phone back in her purse, careful to tuck it into her secret pocket. “I wish I could do more for him. He’s got all this weight on his shoulders.”

“I know.” Bobbie got to her feet. “I should go see if I can do something with Sonny. Carly would want me to look out for him. He must be out of his damn mind with worry.” Elizabeth followed her to the door, and the two embraced. “Take care of yourself and don’t forget to check in with Jason.”

“I won’t. I’m trying very hard not to be one more person he has to worry about.” Elizabeth sighed and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it.

“Carly?” she called out. Again, a little more loudly. “I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you’re even here, but I don’t know. Just—don’t lose hope. Jason’s—he’s going to find you. I promise.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Upstairs Hallway**

Irritated, Courtney strode towards the guest room where her brother had been holed up for the last few days. He’d refused to take any visitors—had sent Michael to stay with Bobbie as if he couldn’t be bothered with his own goddamn son—

He was being so selfish, so _useless_. Jason was never home, out until all hours of the night worrying about everyone but Courtney, and she was sick of Jason shouldering all of Sonny’s responsibilities.

She threw open the door. “Sonny—”

She couldn’t see her brother right away—the room was in shambled, the dark comforter twisted and pulled halfway across the bed—the desk chair broken and over turned.

“Sonny—?”

In the corner, her brother sat, crossed legged. His eyes weren’t on Courtney but staring ahead. “You’re never going to forgive me,” he said to the empty space in front of him. “I didn’t want you to die, but you’re _never_ going to stop punishing me—”

“Sonny—” Courtney’s voice trembled. Her brother was disheveled—he hadn’t shaved in days, his hair was in loose curls around his temples, his voice raspy, the dark eyes rimmed so deeply in red— “Sonny,” she repeated, trying to make herself louder.

“Courtney.” Sonny focused on her. He looked relieved to see her. He beckoned to her. “You can—you can tell her. Tell her I didn’t want to kill her. That it’s not _Carly’s_ fault.”

“Tell who?” Courtney said, faintly. Oh, Christ, her brother had snapped.

“She’s right there.” Sonny pointed at the empty space. “Tell her, Lily. Tell her why you’re here.”

“L-Lily…”

“She says it’s my fault, that I’m being punished, but it’s not fair to punish me.” He closed his eyes, shook his head. “Not fair to punish me.”

He reached for her, but Courtney had already fled out of the room and down the hall.

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Jason walked Justus out of the penthouse and started for the stairs to exchange the used clothes in his duffel bag for clean ones. He couldn’t bring himself to come back to this place and share a room with Courtney when he knew that one of the reasons Carly was still missing was because Courtney had tied all of their hands and called the police.

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t understand how he had so badly misunderstood exactly who she was—why he had _ever_ believed she understood his life better than other women who had been in it.

He was considering calling Diego, the guy trailing Ric, to find out how much longer Lansing might be gone. He hadn’t searched the house yet today, and not to search it made Jason feel like they were giving up.

Like they were just waiting to find Carly’s body—and that he was not going to deal with that. The only way this was going to end was finding Carly alive and healthy and getting Elizabeth away from Ric Lansing.

Milo, Max’s little brother, knocked on Jason’s door, intending to announce his visitor but Bobbie came in before he had a chance. “Jason. I’m glad I caught you.”

“Hey.” He hugged her briefly. “I thought you were with Elizabeth.”

“I was, but I wanted to come here to check on Sonny. She said he’s been struggling. I thought—I thought maybe he sent Michael to stay with me because of Lulu and Lucas—so Michael could have someone to distract him.” Bobbie braced her hands on Jason’s forearms. “But it’s worse than that.”

“He—he was doing okay at first,” Jason admitted. “But he stopped letting us in on Monday and I’ve been—I’ve been letting Justus and Bernie take care of business matters. I should be checking on him—”

“But you have a _thousand_ things to worry about—” Bobbie exhaled sharply. “I need to have something to do, Jason. And we need to change tactics. We need to try something new.”

“I know.” Jason groaned as he turned and started to pace. “It’s been a week, and we’re nowhere. I thought Ric was looking for somewhere to move her—but there’s nothing. Elizabeth and I have torn that house apart, and my contacts at the PCPD tell me they don’t know anything either—”

He grimaced. “It’s Friday. I told Elizabeth I didn’t want her to stay another night in the house but she’s going to argue with me. And she’ll be right. I’ve missed _something_ in the house. I must have, I just don’t know where.”

“If you missed it, we all did,” Bobbie reassured him. “Elizabeth and I were going over it, and everything keeps coming back to the house. It’s the only place that Ric spends any time. The only way this makes sense is if Ric didn’t do it—”

“He did it,” Jason said darkly. “Michael saw him—”

“I don’t doubt that, Jason. And Elizabeth said you’re pretty sure the Zaccharas aren’t involved.” She bit her lip. “Or am I not supposed to know that _she_ knew that?”

“I can’t keep any of that straight anymore.” Jason dragged his hands through hair. “No, I guess I shouldn’t have told her, but it just came out. She’s the only one who gets it—and you, I mean—but—”

“She’s someone you trust, I get it.” Bobbie hesitated. “Where does any of this leave us, Jason? _Where_ is Ric keeping my daughter?”

“There—she’s in the house. It’s the only thing that make sense. It’s the _only_ place Ric goes every day. Unless—”

“Unless he killed her that first night. Unless she never stepped foot in the house.” Bobbie was pale but nodded. “I’m—I’m starting to allow that to be a theory. Maybe something went wrong and he—”

“I _can’t_ let it be something I consider. Because she’s out there, and she’s counting on me, and Elizabeth is counting—” Jason broke off. “I just don’t know what to do next.”

The door shoved open, and Courtney ran in. “Jason, you have to—Sonny—he’s gone _crazy_!”

Jason blinked at his fiancée as Bobbie scowled. “What?” she demanded.

“He’s sitting upstairs and he’s talking to Lily like she’s there—” Courtney didn’t even finish her sentence before Bobbie and Jason rushed out—

And then Bobbie slammed the door shut behind her when Courtney tried to follow.

**Corinthos Penthouse: Guest Bedroom**

Jason stopped Bobbie before she could follow him. “Listen. There’s—Downstairs, in the room where I used to sleep when I lived here—there’s a first aid kit. It—” He swallowed hard. “There’s a sedative.”

Bobbie frowned. “A sedative? This isn’t the first time then—”

“It’s been a few years since it’s been this bad—and he’s _never_ seen Lily,” Jason admitted. “I think he’s been drinking pretty steadily since Carly was kidnapped, and when he’s stressed—sometimes he has a breakdown and has hallucinations. We got a doctor to give us something to give him—I’ll do it, you just—”

“I don’t care about my _license_. I’ll go get the kit.” Bobbie went back down the hallway.

Jason walked into the room and found Sonny leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, his legs sprawled out in front of him. “Sonny?”

“I’m useless, aren’t I?” Sonny murmured, his eyes closed. “Lily told me that. It’s my fault, and I can’t even make it right.”

“Lily was a nice a woman who didn’t know you that well,” Jason said gently as he gingerly knelt down next to Sonny. “She never, not for _one_ minute, would have blamed you.”

“She does. Can’t you hear her?” Sonny gestured to a space just behind Jason. “She blames me. Courtney does. I tried to blame her, tried to make it her fault, but it’s mine.”

“Sonny—”

“I’m the reason Ric didn’t have a mother, so that’s why _he’s_ crazy. And it’s my fault my mother died. She tried to give me a father.” Sonny’s voice was monotone, almost eerily empty as he continued. “It’s my fault Lily died. It was supposed to be me.”

“It’s her father’s fault—”

“It’s my fault Ric came for Carly. Why she’s missing. He says I killed his baby.” Sonny opened his eyes. “Did I? I’ve killed babies before.”

“Sonny—”

“I don’t think—” Sonny’s voice was thick now with tears. “I like Elizabeth. I don’t _think_ I would have pushed her. But maybe I did. I’m poison, Jason.”

“No, you’re not. You know Lily’s not here,” Jason said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “It’s just you saying these things. Because you’re scared. _I’m_ scared, too.”

“Yeah?” Sonny focused on him. “Why?”

“Because it’s been a _week_ ,” Jason admitted. “And I don’t know if I’m right. I don’t know if Ric has her in that house. And if he doesn’t, Elizabeth will have put herself into danger for nothing. I’m scared she’s already gone, Sonny. Or that Ric is going to cut his losses and hurt Elizabeth—even kill her this time.” Jason exhaled slowly. “I don’t have all the answers, Sonny. I wish like _hell_ I did.”

Sonny looked past him again. “She’s not there anymore,” he said quietly. “I guess maybe she never was.”

Behind him, Bobbie gently set down the first aid kit. “Hey, Sonny.”

“Bobbie.” Sonny focused on his mother-in-law. “I’m sorry. I love Carly. I never wanted this to happen. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Bobbie said gently. “Will you let me take care of you? Carly would want me to look after you.” She held out her hand, and together, they pulled Sonny to his feet.

Sonny bobbed and weaved, then laid on the bed. “I’m so tired,” he murmured. He laid his head against the pillow and didn’t even flinch as Bobble delivered the shot.

They waited until Sonny was sleep, and then went downstairs.

Bobbie closed her eyes. “I’m going to call Nikolas,” she told him. “Nikolas is a set of fresh eyes. He can look at this situation and maybe he won’t get stuck. He’ll want Liz out of the house as much as we do and maybe he’ll have some ideas. He’s the _only_ person I can think of who might be able to help.”

She focused on Jason. “You need to send Courtney away.”

“What?” Jason looked at her, squinted. “Why—”

“Because you’re killing yourself to avoid her. Because you know you’re ending it. And she’s just a distraction. An obstacle. She probably made things worse with Sonny, and God knows if she might cooperate with the cops again. Every time I see her, I want to choke the life out of her, so I can’t imagine how you feel about her. Send her to the island with Michael. I’ll talk to Lucas and Lulu. They can go with her.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “I keep thinking I don’t understand how any of this happened,” he admitted. “How—how did I almost marry her, Bobbie? I don’t think I even _like_ her very much.”

Bobbie managed a weak smile. “I’ve been married enough to know that sometimes…you do it because you don’t think there’s anything better out there. It’s never okay to settle, Jason. I’ve done that more than once in my life.”

He sighed. “Yeah, well, you’re right. Courtney can take care of Michael and I won’t have to worry about him. You call Nikolas, and I’ll make the arrangements.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

There was a suitcase by his door when Jason finally went back to his place. He stared down at it—less than a year ago, he had walked through this door and found another suitcase packed, left at his door by a different woman.

When Elizabeth had walked away—when he’d seen that suitcase and known that he avoided the penthouse for too long—that he had waited too long—a hole had opened inside of him—an ache in his chest that only spread when she’d looked at him with those angry, betrayed eyes.

Looking at another woman preparing to leave him—the fact that knowing Courtney was going—it was relief. This was over.  She’d been a mistake—a wrong path—and now he’d have the chance to stop it. To end it before they both made this worse.

Courtney stopped at the bottom of the stairs, another suitcase in her hands. “I think it’s time we both stopped pretending you give a damn about me,” she said flatly. “You can’t say you love me, that you want to marry me, and treat me the way you have for the last week.”

“I—” Jason hesitated. “No. I care about you, but I knew even before Carly went missing that we were making a mistake.”

She swallowed hard, tears shining in her blue eyes. “I could feel you slipping away from me. As long as we were in crisis mode—as long as there was something else going on—we didn’t have to think about the fact that you didn’t love me. I don’t know why you lied to me—”

“I wanted to love you,” he admitted, painfully. “I thought—I thought you understood the way I had to live my life. You acted like you did—”

“I called the cops because my best friend was missing, and my nephew was devastated. I was afraid you and Sonny were going to kill Ric.” Courtney swallowed. “But you know…I guess I’ve ignored what you do. I put it into a box. I’m not like Elizabeth.”

Jason didn’t have the energy to have this conversation. Things had to get done. “I need you to go to the island,” he said, changing course. “I need—Michael needs to get away from this. Lulu and Lucas are going to go with you, but I need to know that he’s okay and somewhere safe.”

“You need _m_ e out of the way, too.” Courtney pursed her lips, exhaled slowly, and then nodded. “Yeah. Okay. It’s clear that _everything_ I try to do here is just making it worse. You and Sonny hate me. And I guess bringing the cops in made a mess of things. I didn’t—I didn’t _want_ that, Jason—”

“I know you were trying to help,” Jason cut in. “It just—it didn’t.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll finish packing. Let me know when I’m leaving.” She went back up the stairs, and he left, feeling dissatisfied with how that had gone.

He’d never meant to hurt Courtney, but by lying to himself, he’d lied to her, too. He didn’t recognize himself and couldn’t understand why it had taken so long to just admit the truth.

He couldn’t worry about Courtney anymore—he had to get the plane ready and let the people at the island know they were coming. Another thing to add to the list that only seemed to get longer every day.


	10. Chapter Ten

_I don't know what's worth fighting for_  
 _Or why I have to scream_  
 _I don't know why I instigate_  
 _And say what I don't mean_  
 _I don't know how I got this way_  
 _I'll never be alright_  
 _So I'm breaking the habit_  
 _I'm breaking the habit tonight_  
\- Breaking the Habit, Linkin Park

* * *

_Friday, June 27, 2003_

**Brownstone: Living Room**

Bobbie tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the long-distance call to connect with Nikolas. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucas and Lulu bickering about what to pack, what not to take, and Lulu trying to get out of the trip altogether.

_“Bobbie?” Nikolas’s voice seemed a bit faint. “Hey—”_

“Hey. I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on here this last week,” she said as she cut off his greeting. “Has Lucky called you?”

_“Ah…no.” Nikolas’s voice got a bit stronger. “But Emily did—Carly’s missing, and Elizabeth’s husband is the primary suspect? She called me a few days ago, but she said I shouldn’t come to Port Charles—”_

“That was then. This is now.” Bobbie pressed her free hand to her temple. “We’re out of ideas. The PCPD can’t find Carly, Jason is frantic, and Sonny’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown—though I think maybe that’s actually more like he’s now recovering from some kind of breakdown. I don’t know. You’re the only person left in Liz’s life who gives a damn. And you—well the Cassadines are psychos, so—”

_“Maybe I have some insight into other psychos?” Nikolas said dryly. “I can be there tomorrow, Bobbie. You can explain everything to me then and I’ll see what I can do.”_

Bobbie closed her eyes. She hadn’t imagined he’d come _right_ home. “You can leave Laura? It’s not going to mess her up? Elizabeth would never forgive me if I—”

_“Mom is responding well,” Nikolas said. “And Lesley and Luke can handle things for a few weeks. And she’d never forgive me if I let something happen to Elizabeth.”_

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She and Nikolas said their goodbyes, and Bobbie hung up. She turned her attention to the bickering idiots in her living room. “Look, I get that neither of you want to go to the island with Courtney and Michael.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go,” Lucas said. “I don’t know why _she’s_ coming.”

“Hey, I can stay home—”

“Michael likes you, Lu,” Bobbie said, almost exasperated. “And I thought you’d have some sympathy for him. You know what it’s like to be missing your mother, to be worried about her.”

Lulu closed her mouth and frowned. “I do, Aunt Bobbie. I just…” She lifted her hands. “You sure you won’t need me here? Who’s going to take care of _you_?”

“Nikolas is coming back tomorrow,” Bobbie said, instead of arguing that she’d taken care of herself for her entire life and certainly didn’t need a teenager to look out for her. “Thank you.”

“Mom….” Lucas embraced her, and Bobbie hugged him back tightly. “Hey. I know you’re scared. If this is what is going to help you deal with this, then that’s what I’m going to do. I just….” He drew back, shaking his head slightly. “I hope everything turns out well.”

“Me, too.” Bobbie then hugged Lulu. “Jason said the plane should be ready in a few hours, so you guys better get going to the airport and meet Courtney there with Michael.”

**Elizabeth’s Studio**

Elizabeth stared at the sketch pad in her hand, the pencil lines little more than scribbles. She’d come to the studio today because she needed a break from the house—because she needed to pretend for just _one_ minute that her life was okay.

But it was hard to hold up that pretense with the patrol car that had followed her car from the house to the studio—right behind the dark car which Cody drove. She had her own personal escort to keep her safe, but what did Carly have?

And where _was_ Carly? Was she in the house? Elizabeth couldn’t imagine how she was, but maybe she wasn’t crazy. She felt like she wasn’t alone when she should be.

If Carly was in the house—was she alive? She had to be alive—why else would Ric kidnap her?

Elizabeth rubbed her head. She was tired of the headaches, the exhaustion she carried with her, the nausea—all of the things Monica had warned her she’d deal with for the next few weeks as she came down from the Valium Ric had been giving her for months.

Drugging her for _months_. Elizabeth still couldn’t wrap her mind around that kind of betrayal—couldn’t understand it—Monica had said the dosages had been low, infrequent, and hadn’t picked up until after the miscarriage. But knowing that there had been the possibility that her child had already been…. compromised…she almost couldn’t process that.

Had…had he drugged her when he wanted to sleep with her? Was _that_ why she’d turned to him after her grandmother’s funeral? They’d slept together then for the first time…and then infrequently after that. She’d never really been able to find the comfort she sought—

_Had_ Ric drugged her to sleep with her? God. Didn’t that mean she’d—

She cut herself off from that train of thought immediately because she really couldn’t process the logical next step.

Cody knocked on her door, then opened it slightly. “Jason’s here.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth frowned, let her feet fall to the ground from the sofa as she set the sketch pad aside. “Was—was I expecting you?”

“No,” Jason admitted, dragging his hand through his hair, leaving it to rest at the nape of his neck. He waited for Cody to close the door. “I—I was on my way to meet with Ned, but I wanted—” He hesitated. “Bobbie came by earlier, and—”

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “You’re upset,” she realized. “What happened?”

Jason sat on the edge of the sofa—at the other end. He clasped his hands between his spread-out knees and stared down at them. “You know Sonny has been struggling…”

“I mentioned it to Bobbie—I hope that was okay—”

“Yeah. No, it was fine. She was there when—” He paused. “Sonny has dark moods. I don’t really understand them, but sometimes he…breaks down. And today…he was talking to Lily.”

“Lily…the wife that…” Elizabeth restlessly rubbed her hand against her jean-clad thigh. “Oh, _God_. Poor Sonny. This must bring that all back. He’s always blamed himself for that, right? And now…another pregnant wife he couldn’t protect.”

Jason nodded wordlessly. “I gave him a sedative, but—yeah. I don’t know. I knew he wasn’t doing well, but Courtney was supposed to be taking care of him.” He glanced at her quickly then looked away. “She’s taking Michael to the island tonight.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. “It’ll be good for Michael to get away. I’m sure he’s been so upset by all of this.”

“I just—” He shook his head. “I wanted to make sure _you_ were okay. I’ve—I’ve been able to see you every day, and I didn’t—we didn’t search the house today.”

“No, I guess we’ve gotten what we can from the house.” She sighed. “I still…I feel like we’ve missed something, you know? I don’t know how because we’ve torn the place apart, but there _has_ to be something there.”

“I know. I can’t think of what could be there, but—it’s the only place where he spends any time, so…” Jason trailed off. Shook his head. “I meant to tell you that Bobbie called Nikolas to ask him to come home.”

“Nikolas?” Elizabeth repeated, leaning back a little. “She’s not trying to get him to talk to me about—”

“No,” Jason said. “We’ve both given up on that. But we’ve…we’ve gone in circles with what we know. Maybe someone who hasn’t been here—”

“And someone who has crazy in his DNA?” Elizabeth suggested with a half a smile. “Yeah, maybe that makes sense. It can’t hurt, and it’ll be nice to see him. He left a message last week on the machine while I was—” She blinked. “He left a message for me,” she repeated. “I must have been asleep when he called. And Ric would have picked up if he’d been home—”

“It could narrow down the time frame. Prove Ric didn’t have the time to take her somewhere else.” Jason got to his feet. “I’ll call Stan and Spinelli and get them on the phone records.” His eyes caught the clock on her wall next to the door. “I should—I’m supposed to meet Ned about his business dealings with Ric and Faith, so I should go.”

Elizabeth stood as well and followed him to the door. “I should be getting home,” she admitted. “The last thing I need is for Ric to show up here and—” She gestured at the door. “Find Cody.”

He turned to face her. “Elizabeth—I know I said I’d given up, but—” He swallowed hard, his eyes searching hers. “I _hate_ you going back there.” He hesitated. “Back to him.”

“I know,” Elizabeth murmured. Without meaning to, her eyes filled, and her throat felt tight. “I don’t want to,” she admitted. “Everything in the last six months—it’s been a lie—and I keep thinking about why he started to give me Valium—every time I look at him, I know what he did to the baby—”

“I didn’t even—” Jason touched her shoulder, his face stricken. “Is _that_ what caused the—”

“No, but Monica said it might have been a blessing,” Elizabeth’s voice trembled. “Because…it…there might have been defects and—” A sob slipped out and she turned away. “I can’t stand it. What kind of person am I to be glad I lost my baby? I wanted that baby. I know all the reasons it was wrong—that I’m better—”

“Hey—” Jason turned her back to face him, lifting her chin so their eyes met. “You would have been an amazing mother, but it’s okay to feel however you want to feel about it. I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I wish I could have done something to stop it.”

“You tried.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “You warned me, but I didn’t listen. I was so angry with you, so hurt—I couldn’t breathe. And he kept saying all the right things—I don’t know why I couldn’t just let myself trust you.”

He gently kissed her forehead. “We hurt each other,” Jason murmured. She opened her eyes to look at him and saw the regret in his eyes. “But we’re going to find Carly and we’re going to make Ric pay for everything he’s done to you both.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, nodded. “I know. I can believe it when you say it.” His thumbs gently wiped away her tears. “It’s stupid to wish I could turn back time, but I wish I could go back to that night I left you,” she said softly. “And just…not do it.”

“If I could go back,” Jason said hesitantly, “then I would have stopped you from leaving.” His eyes still on hers, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Her knees nearly buckled at the softness of the kiss—even as he was already stepping back, letting his hands fall to his side.

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “You should meet—you should go talk to Ned.” Her hands fluttered in front of her, unsure what to do with them. “I mean…he might have something to tell us about what Ric’s been up to.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m already late—” Jason waited another a moment. “I—I know this isn’t the time, but I wanted you to know that before Courtney left, we—I told her it was over.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh—I didn’t—”

“We can—we can talk about it later. After we find Carly.” After another long, lingering look, Jason left, and Elizabeth stood there, her hands fisted at her heart.

“He _always_ does this,” she muttered. “Kisses me senseless and leaves. Every time.”

**Kelly’s: Courtyard**

Ned checked his watch for the fifth time and scowled. He’d agreed to meet with Jason against his own better judgment—the last thing he needed was for his erstwhile cousin to think that he was in _any_ way involved with Carly’s kidnapping.

And now Jason was almost twenty minutes late. Had he changed his mind?

Ned was getting to his feet when Jason ducked under the archway of the courtyard and approached him. “I’m sorry,” the younger man said, looking nearly exhausted as Ned remembered him looking before he’d taken his MCATs, back in the day when he’d been Jason Quartermaine.

“You know, you asked to meet me,” Ned said mildly as he took his seat again and gestured for Jason to join him. “If you were running late—”

“I didn’t—” Jason shook his head as if to clear it. “I had to see someone.” He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, then leaned forward, his hands clasped together, his elbows on the table. “You’ve worked with Ric Lansing.”

“I asked him for some legal advice,” Ned said mildly. He pushed his glass of water restlessly from one hand to another. “Nothing all that interesting—”

“You met with him here _and_ there was paperwork. Look…I know how angry you were after Kristina—” Jason swallowed. “That was a bad time. I know you were angry. I don’t care about any of that, Ned. If anything happened to—” He grimaced. “I get it.  I just—I _need_ to know about Ric.”

Ned tilted his head. “Before Emily left for California, she asked me to keep an eye on Elizabeth with Ric being the prime suspect in Carly’s kidnapping. You dated her, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Jason said flatly. “And she’s—she’s in danger. You _know_ that. You know Ric is crazy. He’s already—I need to find Carly and get Elizabeth out of this. So stop—” He sat back, shook his head. “You can be pissed at me and Sonny all you want. Come at us, I don’t care. _That’s_ the business. But Carly and Elizabeth don’t deserve this—”

“I was approached last fall,” Ned said when Jason stopped abruptly. “Just after Luis Alcazar tumbled off that balcony. Faith Roscoe wanted to know if I hated Sonny enough to get revenge. I did. It was never about you. It was always _him_.” He sighed. “I can see how terrified you are for Carly and Elizabeth, so I think you can understand why I agreed.”

“What did Faith want to do?”

“Ric was a connection of hers,” Ned continued. “I don’t—I don’t know how they met or how long they knew each other. But he was set up in Kelly’s pretty quickly, sometime in November. He was supposed to get inside Sonny’s circle and find me something we could—I don’t know. I don’t know if I had an endgame.”

“Ric and Faith were working together?”

“They are were still supposed to be working together up until the last few weeks. And…” Ned frowned. “He and Faith were sleeping together. They might still be, I don’t know. But he started seeing Elizabeth because of you. He thought she’d be angry enough to help.”

“But she didn’t help.”

“No.” Ned rubbed his chest, uncomfortable. “I don’t know how—I don’t know _why_ I didn’t step away when she got involved. I wasn’t thinking clearly—I hadn’t—I didn’t think about the fact that she was Emily’s friend which meant she was still so young.  I just—I saw her as a pawn.” He’d never forgive himself for that. Elizabeth wasn’t that much older than Brooke, and he’d sat by while she got involved with a monster.

Jason nodded, dismissed that. “Could Faith be helping him with Carly?”

“I doubt it. Ric stopped returning phone calls in May—right about the time everyone found out he was actually Sonny’s brother. Faith didn’t know _that_ either—she didn’t realize he had a personal stake. We didn’t know about Anthony Zacchara or Trevor Lansing. He might have come to Port Charles on their orders. He always seemed to be playing his own game.” Ned rubbed his chin. “I think he was obsessed with Elizabeth. And that pissed Faith off. When Ric married her—when Faith found out about the baby—she was livid. She’s still making threats about doing something to her, but I think—”

“You think Faith pushed Elizabeth?”

“I do,” Ned admitted. “She called me last week to complain about Ric not talking to her, to complain about Elizabeth. She made threats again a few days ago— she’s not happy with me either. My daughter moved to Port Charles, and time has…it’s cleared out my head. When Elizabeth had that miscarriage, Monica was upset. And I remembered who Elizabeth was to my family.”

Jason rubbed his hands over his face. “You backed out.”

“With Faith. I haven’t officially pulled the plug on Ric yet. I figure he pulled the plug on me first.” Ned waited a moment. “I don’t think Faith would have helped Ric, but if there’s anyone who knows where Ric might have taken Carly, it’s Faith.”

“Okay.” Jason shoved back his chair. “Thanks.” He hesitated. “You said Faith is still making threats. About Elizabeth?”

“About Elizabeth, mostly. A few for me and Brooke.” Ned rose to his feet. “Jason, Grandmother is, for some reason, very fond of Carly. I hope you find her.” The word _alive_ hung between them, unspoken.

Jason nodded and left the courtyard. Ned watched him go and wondered if he was ever going to be able to forgive himself if something happened to Carly or Elizabeth because Ned had given Ric help once upon a time.

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Taggert tapped his pen against a folder. “There’s no way around it, Mac. Somewhere, we missed _something_.” He scowled, dumped the folder on Mac’s desk and pushed himself to his feet so he could pace. “Maybe we concentrated too fast on the Zacchara angle. Maybe we rushed into the situation too fast—if we had waited twenty more minutes before going to the Lansing house—if we’d watched him first—”

“You can second guess yourself until you’re blue in the face,” Mac said mildly from behind his desk. “I’ve been looking through your reports. Capelli might have cut some corners, but you didn’t. You followed the leads you had. Michael Corinthos told you he saw a man who looked Ric Lansing. You went to Lansing’s house and searched it. You looked into Ric’s background. You investigated his connections. You’ve had men watch him for the last week.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Ric,” Taggert muttered, rubbing his hand over his bald head. “I mean, it’s summer, so I guess we can’t say it was too dark Michael to know the difference. But he _was_ a traumatized six-year-old, right? Maybe he just saw a dark-haired man. Luis Alcazar had family. A brother who looks a lot like him.”

“I saw that in your file, too — Lorenzo Alcazar was awarded custody of Luis’s daughter, Sage. They currently live in Caracas, Venezuela. No reports that Lorenzo has left the country.” Mac tipped his head. “Who else?’

“You’d think Corinthos and Morgan have a long list of enemies, but they don’t. Not anyone who would do _this_. The Families aren’t in for this, you know? Tagliatti and Vega like money too much, and this isn’t Ruiz’s style. Zacchara is a dead end. We got nothing to tie him to this. Maybe it goes back further than that.”

“Moreno? Sorel?”

“Maybe even Frank Smith,” Taggert said restlessly. “Or revenge for the car bomb. What do we know about Hernando Rivera’s people?”

“All of those people are gone now,” Mac reminded him. “We’ve had reason to look into them before. You researched the Rivera connection when Juan was here.”  He shrugged. “I hate this, too. I hate knowing that we’ve done everything we could have and we’re _still_ at a dead end.”

“We could have brought Ric in for questioning.” Taggert resumed his seat. “Elizabeth had clearly been drugged—he was the only one who could have done it. We should have searched for medication. We could have nailed him—”

Mac hesitated. “You…you’re _sure_ she was drugged?”

Taggert frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to Capelli. He doesn’t know Elizabeth like I do. This is _not_ a woman who turned to drugs after her miscarriage. That’s not who she is—”

“She’s had a rough year—between her botched wedding to Spencer a year and half ago — being kidnapped last year—being cheated on by Morgan with Sonny’s sister—her grandmother—the miscarriage—you don’t think it’s finally been too much?”

“Maybe I could see her using a prescription—leaning on it a bit too much,” Taggert said. “But I handled her miscarriage case—I have her medical records. She wasn’t prescribed anything then.” He leaned forward.  “I know she’s had a bad year, Mac, but I’m telling you—that’s _not_ what was going on last week.”

Mac exhaled slowly. “Then why is she still with Lansing? Capelli says Morgan has been in that house almost every day this week. He thinks it’s an affair—”

“And that means _what_ exactly?” Taggert said, irritated. “So, the fuck what? Morgan is looking for Carly. The only reason we got into that house to search last week was Elizabeth giving us the go. As long as _she’s_ in that house, we get to search it any damn time we please. You think she hasn’t thought of that with Morgan? Community property. He’s not getting arrested.”

“Damn it.” Mac closed his eyes. “Capelli had me half thinking she might have…helped Ric.”

“She didn’t—” Taggert frowned. “He’s been wanting to leak to the press—shit, Mac.” He shot to his feet. “ _Tell me_ you didn’t give him the go head to leak an affair to the tabloids?”

“It’s just the tabloids—”

“What exactly about the affair is he leaking?” Taggert demanded. “Did he tell the bastards Morgan’s been in the house?”

Mac hesitated. “It was supposed to be just a small line item, so no.”

“And you think Capelli is going to listen? You gave him permission to do exactly—” Taggert stared at his commissioner. “Haven’t you screwed with her life enough? Is this because of Floyd, too? I’m so sick of that asshole and his election year pressures.”

“Don’t bring that up—it has nothing to do with this—”

“If Lansing finds out Morgan’s been in the house, what the hell you do think is going to happen to Elizabeth?” he snarled. He sliced his hand through the air. “ _This_ has always been the goddamn problem in this department. We got no problem sacrificing innocent people to get ahead. You better hope I can get that story pulled before it hits the stands tomorrow.”

He stormed out of the office.

**Lansing Home: Panic Room**

The entire time her mother had been in the house, Carly had been glued to the screen. When she was rescued she was going to learn how to read lips. This was so damn _frustrating_.

She watched as Elizabeth and Bobbie talked. She could tell they were both agitated. Upset. Not with each other—she could see that Bobbie was worried about Elizabeth, that the younger woman shared the same concern in reverse.

Had she really ever _known_ how close Elizabeth was to her mother? Had she cared to learn anything about this woman?

She watched Elizabeth make a phone call—something she did almost constantly, Carly realized. Five or six times a day, Carly had caught her taking phone out of her purse— _except_ when Jason was there. This was the first day since Sunday—how many days had actually passed?—that Jason hadn’t come to the house and searched it from top to bottom.

She was calling Jason.

Why _was_ she calling Jason so much? Carly squinted. She saw her mother leaving—the hug—and then Elizabeth was talking.

No one was home, but the brunette had her eyes lifted to the sky—almost to the camera—did Elizabeth know it was there? No…no that wasn’t possible—

But somehow, Carly thought Elizabeth knew she was in the house. Maybe should sense how closely she was being watched—that was a thing, right? People could tell.

“I’m here, Elizabeth.” Carly pressed her fist to her mouth. “Please. Find me. Tell Jason. Tell Jason I’m here. You _know_ I’m here. You can feel me here.”

She got up, tried to get to the walls—but she couldn’t reach that corner where the door slid open. She wanted to pound on it, scream Elizabeth’s name.

This room was so dark—even when all the lights were lit—it was still so dim. The shadows were inching closer to her, and she was tired of her own company, tired of her own voice.

Why couldn’t they find her? How could they _not_ know about the panic room? This was Elizabeth’s house, wasn’t it?

“Please, find me,” she murmured. “Please don’t let me disappear.”

**Faith Roscoe’s Apartment**

When Faith Roscoe turned on the light in her living room that night, she was tickled pink at the sight of Jason Morgan casually sitting in her plush white armchair. “Well, well, I have to admit, I’ve _always_ wondered what it would be like between us,” she purred.

Jason’s face didn’t change. “You’ve been working with Ric Lansing and Ned Ashton since last fall.”

Faith wrinkled her nose. “Someone’s been talking out of turn.” She wagged her finger. “Ned is a _very_ naughty man.” She sashayed over to her wine cabinet and selected an excellent white vintage. “I haven’t had time to take care of him, but he’s on my list.”

“Is Elizabeth Webber on that list, too?”

Faith nearly bobbled the cork at the thought of that insipid little mouse. “My, my, does the dear girl have another champion? I _must_ ask her how she does it—”

She never heard him move. One second, she was smirking, pouring her wine—and then the next she was shoved back against the wall, Jason’s hand tight around her throat.

“I never thought you were into games,” Faith said breathlessly, trying to sound amused. She was a woman, so Jason was trying to scare her. Well, mission accomplished. Time to give him what he wanted so he’d _go away_. “You’re here about Carly. You want to find her.”

“Did you help Ric take her? Are you hiding her?”

“I have no interest in Sonny’s wife,” Faith managed, as Jason’s grip relaxed enough for her to draw in a full breath. “And Ric has been a _very_ disappointing boy. No, I did not help him. And I do not know where she is, _buuuut_ ….” She drew out in a sing-song voice, careful to keep her eyes locked on his. “I know he was _quite_ desperate to find a house for his little china doll. Just the right house. The house was all he could talk about.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “He was looking for that house or a particular kind of house?”

“I don’t know, and I didn’t ask. I’m not interested in helping Ric start the perfect life with that—” Faith broke off whatever insult she was about to launch. Keep the eye on the prize. “There’s something about the house that made his plan complete. They moved in a week before Carly went missing.”

Jason nodded. Released her neck and started across the room. Faith rolled her shoulders, irritated. “If I _knew_ where Carly was, I would have already found a way to make Ric pay for it. He’s become very boring, don’t you know?”

“Mmm…” Jason squinted at her. “You pushed her down the stairs, didn’t you?”

And the way he said it told Faith she’d already been convicted of the crime. Sentenced. Her palms began to sweat. _How_ had she forgotten the reason they’d targeted the tedious little bitch in the first place? She was Jason Morgan’s ex-girlfriend—though maybe the _ex_ was something he’d like to change.

“I did you a favor,” Faith said, spreading her hands at her sides. “Now you don’t have to take on Lansing’s bastard when you toss in him the harbor and take her back—and really—you’d be _so_ much nicer to her, and he’s been just awful—” Her voice stopped abruptly when Jason drew his gun from where it had been tucked behind his back.

Faith swallowed. “I shouldn’t have done it, of course. I was angry, and I wanted to make Ric hurt. I didn’t even think about her. I should have. I should think more about other people. I will. I’ll enter a convent—” Her voice became more rapid as she watched Jason screw a silencer into the barrel. “I can help you,” she said desperately. “I can _make_ Ric tell me—”

“Even if that were true,” Jason said slowly, meeting her eyes again. “It still wouldn’t save you.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be the good one,” Faith retorted. “I’m a woman—isn’t there a code—”

“You don’t get to play in this world, Faith, and expect special treatment,” Jason said. “And this isn’t business. This isn’t about Sonny. This…this is personal.” He lifted a shoulder and looked at her without any expression in his eyes. “You knew who she was when you went after her. And as long as Ric wants her, she’s not safe from you.”

“Listen, that’s just not true—”

But she was dead before she could finish the sentence, the bullet hitting her just between the eyes. A nice, neat bullet hole between those wide blue eyes, still open—her mouth still forming words.

She hit the floor, her black sun dress pooling around her. Blood starting to soak into the carpet.

Jason stared down at her, then pulled out his cell phone. “Hey, Francis. Yeah, I got a cleanup for you to handle.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Being me can only mean_  
 _Feeling scared to breathe_  
 _If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything_  
 _That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down_  
 _Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up_  
 _Let me breathe_  
\- Afraid, The Neighborhood

* * *

_Saturday, June 28, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

“I am going to have someone _fired_ today!”

Scott Baldwin’s voice boomed through the room even before he crashed through the double doors, waving a copy of the _Port Charles Sun_ in his hand. “Which one of you fucking assholes did this?”

He threw the paper in the direction of the Organized Crime Unit—the set of desks where Capelli and Taggert sat. Taggert scowled as he caught it—the headline screaming **FEMME FATALE** over a trio of single photos—Elizabeth with Ric and Jason on either side…and in much smaller print on the lower third of the cover it proclaimed **LANSING SUSPECT IN MOB KIDNAPPING**.

He closed his eyes, crumbling it slightly. It was worse than he’d thought it might be—

“I tried to get the story killed yesterday—I’ve been on the phone with every reporter I know—” Taggert threw a scathing glance at his partner. “How much did you leak?”

“What makes you think **I** did this?” Capelli asked, even as he smirked. He took the paper from Taggert and opened to the article. “Hmm…they were definitely resourceful…” He held the center spread out. “How do you think they got this picture?”

Taggert glared at a photograph from the warehouse fire in 2001—someone must have snapped it just as Morgan and Corinthos had escaped—and later realized  Elizabeth was in the frame, a bouquet of white roses at her feet. There was another photo of Elizabeth at her grandmother’s funeral with Ric at her side.

“You are—” Scott jabbed a finger at him. “Do you have _any_ idea what kind of lawsuit you just opened us up to? You just—” He shook his head, so angry he couldn’t speak. “Mac? Where the hell are you?”

“What are you so pissed about?” Capelli said with a shrug. “We needed to shake something loose on this case. If Lansing kidnapped Carly for her kid, he’s going to make a mistake now—”

“A mistake that might end up—” Scott almost reached for his neck but drew his hands back at the last minute. “I can’t with you right now.  I want—”

“Scott,” Mac said, uneasily, carrying his open copy of the _Sun_ , as he emerged from his office. “I know you’re not happy about this—”

“I want them off the case,” Scott cut in. “Give it to Major Crimes—”

“Major Crimes is two detectives that already have their plates full.” Mac looked at Taggert. “Who’s on the Lansing house today?”

“Rodriguez—” Taggert got to his feet. “This is bullshit, I _told_ you she’s not involved—”

Capelli dismissed his concerns but Mac shook his head. “This was supposed to be a line item in the gossip section,” he told Capelli, irritated. “I told you. It was supposed to read like a rumor—you gave them _everything_ we had—Michael’s statement, the fact that Jason Morgan has been inside the house—”

“A gossip item wasn’t going to get Lansing’s attention. Stop worrying,” Capelli said. “We got a car at the house, and didn’t one of the rookies say the wife has one of Morgan’s men following her—”

“They’re not _inside_ the house,” Mac said with clenched teeth. “If Lansing goes after her, we might be too late—”

“Pull him in for questioning _now_ ,” Scott barked. “Pick him up, get him out of the house.”

“We’re all acting like she’s an abused wife—”

“You’re off the case, Capelli,” Mac snapped. “And you’re suspended—”

“You’re going to hear from my union rep,” Capelli snarled. But he grabbed his keys and stalked out of the room. “This is _bullshit_ —”

“I told you I didn’t want this leaked to the press,” Scott told Mac. “If anything happens to her because of this, her family is going to own you and this building—”

“She doesn’t have any family,” Taggert murmured. He set the paper down. “I’m going to call Rodriguez and tell him to do a welfare check.”  He picked up his keys and drew his badge and gun from the drawer where he kept them.

“There’s a reason we don’t keep rookies, why qualified senior officers don’t stay,” he continued. He met Scott’s eyes, then looked at Mac. “Capelli doesn’t give a shit about Elizabeth Webber because she’s mixed up with Corinthos and Morgan. He figures if something happens to her, then it means Morgan will have a motive to go after Lansing. It’s all about them. Fuck anyone else.”

“And I haven’t been much better. We screwed up this case from the beginning because we all saw it as a back door to maybe getting them.” He started for the door, but turned back just before he left. “If anything happens to her because of this, you’ll have my badge. I’m done with this shit.”

“Scott,” Mac began once Taggert had left but Scott just shook his head.

“He’s right. We figured Elizabeth was making her own choices. We should have hauled him in for assault last week. There was enough probable cause.” Scott exhaled slowly, looked down at the paper. “We forgot what we’re supposed to be doing here. She’s not a pawn, not someone we can use to get to someone else.” He glared at the commissioner. “And you can tell the mayor I don’t give a shit if it’s an election year for him. I’m tired of ignoring what I know what is right.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Jason had fallen sleep on his sofa in the early hours of the morning after overseeing the cleanup and dump of Faith Roscoe’s body. She was one more threat they should have neutralized months ago, and it felt almost like a relief to do something proactive.

And knowing she would _never_ be in the position to hurt Elizabeth again was just a bonus.

He was jarred out sleep by a pounding on his door—it was too early for the guard to be on Sonny’s door and run interference—so by the time he got the door unlocked, his cell phone had started to ring.

“Oh, God, I thought you weren’t here,” Bobbie said, tears in her eyes, her chest heaving. She pushed a paper at him. “This was dumped on my doorstep about twenty minutes ago.”

Jason shook his head, trying to clear the fog of sleep—he was usually a pretty light sleeper and alert once he woke, but he’d been running on fumes for days—last night had been the most sleep he’d managed at once since Carly had gone missing.

He stared down at the paper, horrified to find his face next to Elizabeth’s—with a headline accusing them of an affair. He ripped the paper open and started to skim the article. “What the _hell_ is this? How did—”

Sonny had threatened all the papers if they ran anything about Ric, but maybe the _Sun_ —

“The article cites sources in the PCPD,” Bobbie snarled as Jason struggled to understand what was happening. “It says you’ve been in her house for hours— _and_ they’ve got you visiting her at the studio—”

“It also says one of my guys is on the door at the studio—to keep people out—” Jason squeezed his eyes. “If Ric sees this, he’s either going to believe it’s an affair or he’s going to know she’s been helping us—either way—”

He let the paper fall to his feet and scooped his phone from the charger on the desk. He pressed Elizabeth’s speed dial—but it went straight to the automated voicemail. “Damn it. Is it too early?” It was just after eight AM and he saw now that she’d sent a text at six to let him know she was awake, and he had missed a call at seven so he had two additional texts from her, both simply stating that she was okay.

The last text at eight had asked him if he was okay. He sent her another text asking her to call him, but he couldn’t wait for her to check in—

“Call Cody—” Bobbie suggested as Jason told her about the texts. “He’ll know if Ric brought in the paper.”

Cody picked up on the first ring. “He hasn’t left yet,” he said, the usual greeting.

“Did he bring in the newspaper yet?” Jason demanded. “Could you see which ones?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t really pay any attention—from the shapes, it looked the _Herald_ and the _Sun_ —why?”

“Okay. Okay. I need you to—” Do what? Call the police? Storm the house? What if Ric didn’t notice right away—what if Elizabeth was able to hide the paper—

“Jason—” Bobbie said. “ _I_ can go over. I can check on her. I should have gone straight there, I just—”

“Wait—” Cody said, drawing Jason’s attention. “There’s something happening in the police car—”

“What—”

“Rodriguez is getting out and going up the walk to the door. Should I find out?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“I’ll go.” Bobbie darted out the door, leaving Jason standing there, cell phone in one hand—the paper sprawled open at his feet, Elizabeth’s face staring up at him.

Fuck it. “I’m coming over,” he told Cody. He snagged his boots from the sofa and managed to catch Bobbie before she got on the elevator.

**Lansing Home: Panic Room**

Carly barely recognized that it was morning—only the sunshine pouring in when Ric opened the door to get the paper told her it was a new day—and the sunshine was a dim white on a small black and white screen in her prison.

Almost as an afterthought, she watched him scan the headlines on the top paper—the _Herald_ from the way it was folded—before setting it aside for the _Sun_. She missed reading the tabloids—it was always filled with someone else’s misery and someone’s scandal—those were the days.

When she saw Ric’s expression change, Carly sat up straight. What was in the paper that would make him so angry—He hurriedly opened the paper—continued to read, then to started to shout—no mistaking the anger in his features, even on her tiny screen.

“What’s going on?” she murmured, leaning in.

**Lansing Home: Living Room**

“What the hell _is_ this?” Ric snarled. Elizabeth rose from the sofa, confused until she saw a glimpse of her own face on the cover of the _Port Charles Sun_. “Are you _fucking_ him?” His face seemed somehow twisted, flushed red, the cords in his neck bulging. His teeth were bared as he spit out the words.

“What?” Elizabeth blinked. She took an involuntary step back at the light in his eyes, the set of his mouth. But she was having a particularly rough morning and her reflexes were not nearly as fast as they needed to be—before she could even register that he was moving—he had grabbed her arm and was shoving the paper into her face.

“He’s been in my damn house, Elizabeth—” Ric was so close—his nostrils flaring, his teeth bared. “ _Every day_ —”

“It’s—” Elizabeth struggled to make sense of what was happening. Her heart was racing, and she couldn’t find the words at first. Make it stop, make it stop. How did she make it stop? “ _What_ are you talking about?”

He shoved her away—and she hit the floor, her elbow hitting the table as she fell. Pain exploded in her arm, in her side as she crashed into the hardwood floor. She sucked in a deep breath. Phone. Get to the phone. Elizabeth started to crawl towards her purse—why didn’t she keep the damn phone with her? Why had she tried to get cute and hide it?

Get to the phone. Call Cody. Call Jason. Get help—

She tried to scream as Ric grabbed her again, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, digging into the skin, and almost lifting her to her feet in one fell swoop. He shoved the paper at her again—she tried to claw away from him—pushing him—scratching him—

“Let me go!” she cried. Her elbow hit something hard—and something crashed and shattered. The vase on the table next to the sofa.

“ _Everything_ I’ve done for you!” Ric was screaming at her. “And you’ve been betraying me!”

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears—her chest aching—she finally managed to break away from him and throw herself at her purse. It fell from the small book case against the back wall, and she scrambled for it. She could almost hear him now coming after her and she flipped on her back, kicking out with her feet.

She managed to land one right in between his legs and Ric fell to the ground, giving her a small break—a chance. Elizabeth lunged to her feet, her purse in her hands, trying to fish the phone out.

“Fucking whore. _Bitch_ —” Ric managed. On all fours, trying to grasp his breath, he stared her, his jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his neck. “I gave up everything for you!”

One hand on her phone, she pressed speed dial, bringing it to her ears. With the other—she fished something from behind the umbrella stand—a baseball bat. She shifted her grip so she could swing it more easily. “Stay away from me—” she choked out. “Cody? Cody! I need you! _Please!_ Call 911—”

But the words were no sooner out of her mouth then there was a furious pounding on the door—and then it burst open. Cruz Rodriguez rushed in, followed closely by Cody—and then bringing up the rear—Taggert who swept his eyes over the room, took in Elizabeth’s tears stained face—the scratches on her arm—the dark red marks from where Ric had grabbed her.

“You son of a bitch,” he breathed. He almost went for Ric with his fists—but drew himself back. He pulled out a set of handcuffs out. “You’re under arrest—”

“Me?” Ric got to his feet, his eyes bulging. “What for—” He gestured at her. “ _She’s_ the whore—she’s been screwing Jason Morgan—”

Elizabeth closed the phone and shifted the bat until she gripped it with both hands. “Even if I were, you have no right to put your hands on me. To _drug_ me!”

Ric scowled. “I _knew_ you believed him—I knew you took his side—”

“I didn’t _need_ to take his side!” She screamed and then sucked in a breath as her head started to spin. “I nearly died last week—I overdosed, and Jason found me. He took me to the hospital—you can talk to Monica. She ran the tests—” This she let tumble out to Taggert, whose face darkened into a furious scowl.

She actually saw Ric rein himself in now. His expression softened. His voice changed. “You’ve been taking Valium since the miscarriage—I’m—I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I overreacted, the paper—”

And how quickly he shifted personalities—from the angry, violent, cuckolded husband to the worried husband. God, how many faces did he have? “I’ve tried to talk to you—” he continued, talking to her as if she were stupid. As if she had imagined it all.

“Don’t you even dare try it—Monica can prove you started drugging me in January!” She pointed the bat at him. “Did you drug me because you knew I’d never sleep with you otherwise?”

“What?” Taggert demanded, his eyes burning as he stepped between them. “You son of a bitch—” He strode over to Ric who didn’t fight too hard as he was roughly handcuffed. “You’re under arrest for assault—”

“It’s _her_ word against mine,” Ric grunted. All traces of the worried husband had vanished now.

“Yeah, I’m not worried about that—” Taggert glanced over as they heard another car screeching to a halt in the street.

Cody leaned out the open doorway and winced. “It’s Bobbie-” He glanced at Elizabeth with almost a bit of regret. “And Jason.”

“Of course,” Ric snarled. “Her lover’s coming to check on her—”

“Shut up, asshole,” Taggert hissed. He looked to Elizabeth. “I’m taking him down to the station. I’ll need you to come down to the station to press charges—” He hesitated. “Please, for the love of God—”

“Just tell me where to sign,” Elizabeth almost growled as Jason and Bobbie joined the crowd at the door. She watched as they took in the scene, as Jason’s eyes raked over her disheveled and bruised appearance. Bobbie put a hand on his shoulder as if to hold him back.  “Where is she, Ric? It’s over. You know that, don’t you? Where’s Carly?”

Ric smirked as Taggert almost dragged him towards the door. Bobbie had to literally pull Jason out of the way as they came within a hairbreadth of one another. “I have no idea. I _hope_ she’s still alive.”

And then he was gone, down the steps to the sidewalk. Cruz cleared his throat awkwardly after a moment or two had passed. “Um…do you want me to drive you there? To the PCPD, I mean,” he said hesitantly.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and loosened her grip until the tip of the bat hit the ground. “I can’t—” She pressed a fist against her chest. “I can’t seem to—”

Bobbie and Jason both moved at the same time, but Jason reached her first. He put an arm around her shoulders and almost carried her to the sofa, so she could sit down. She closed her eyes. Tried to catch her breath. Why couldn’t she stop breathing so fast—

Dimly she was aware of Bobbie perching on the coffee table in front of her, taking her wrist. “Your pulse is racing, Elizabeth. Let me call Monica—have her meet us—”

“No…” Elizabeth opened her eyes. “No, I’m—I’m okay. It’s just—” Her lips were dry. “It’s—I’m halfway through the two weeks she said it would take to withdraw from the—” She blinked as Jason took the bat and set it aside. “I need that,” she murmured. “ _Don’t_ take it —”

“It’s right here.” Jason glanced around the room—took in the shattered vase, the newspaper in tatters, the furniture moved out of the way—her purse’s contents strewn across the floor. “Elizabeth—”

“I’m sorry, I ruined everything,” she said sucking in a deep breath. “Ric knows. _He knows_. And it’s my fault. I didn’t know how to—I couldn’t think—he was so angry, and I couldn’t calm him down—I couldn’t get him to stop screaming long enough to make up—”

“ _You_ don’t need to apologize for anything,” Bobbie hissed. She got to her feet and glared at Cruz. “ _Sources at the PCPD_ ,” she said, scathingly. “No wonder you and Taggert were practically on her doorstep when the story broke. Guilty conscience?”

“What?” Elizabeth shook her head. “I didn’t even see the paper—I just—he was _so_ angry, he knew you’d been here—”

“You were already coming up to the house when Miss Webber called,” Cody said to the officer flatly. “You _knew_ there’d be trouble.”

“I don’t—” Cruz shook his hand, clearly shaken. “I got word from Taggert he was on his way, but he wanted me to do a welfare check. I didn’t know until I heard something break and then you were screaming so—” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know.”

“He’s a rookie, Bobbie,” Elizabeth murmured. She pressed her hand to her head. Everything hurt so much. “Last week was his first day. You told me he started with Lucky, remember?”

Bobbie exhaled slowly. “I know. I know. He’s just—” She gestured uselessly. “He’s _here_. Who am I supposed—” She narrowed her eyes. “Scott. _That’s_ who I’m going to kill next. Then maybe Mac. Depends who I see first. They’re both too fucking concerned with Sonny and Jason and my daughter is _gone_ —” Bobbie’s voice broke.

“He’ll never tell us now,” Elizabeth said. She squeezed her eyes. “Maybe if I don’t press charges—”

“He’ll never tell us,” Jason repeated. “Because it puts him on the hook for kidnapping, and if something happens to Carly because of it—” He couldn’t finish his sentence. “We can’t think about that right now. We need to make sure he stays behind bars at least for right now. Until we can figure out what to do next. So, we’ll go sign a statement, and then you’ll come back here, get your stuff—”

“I can’t go,” Elizabeth said, and she scowled when almost everyone in the room groaned. “No, no, you don’t get to act like I’m being _stupid_ about this. There’s something in this house—” She shoved Jason’s hands away from her arms and rose to her feet, grimacing when a wave of a dizziness swept over her. “You know I’m not stupid. If I stop living here, I _can’t_ come back—”

Jason hesitated, and Bobbie glared at him. “ _Stop_ letting her guilt you into this! Elizabeth, it’s _done_. There’s _nothing_ here. She’s not here—”

Jason held up a hand to cut Bobbie off, and then eyed the cop for a long moment. “You can go to the station,” he told him blandly. “We’re going to let Elizabeth clean up, calm down, and then we’ll be down.”

Because Cruz badly wanted to go and get his head on straight, he nodded, and then left. Cody closed the door behind him and leaned against it, remaining silent.

“I talked to Faith Roscoe last night and she told me that Ric was looking for a particular house. That something about _this_ place was important.”  He rubbed his eyes. “I just—you’re right, Elizabeth. I know you’re right. But if you stay here, it’s like we’re saying Carly is more important than you—”

“No, you’re not.” Elizabeth shook her head. “No. That’s _not_ what I think is happening here. Hey, look at me, Jason. Every second of the last week, you’ve been trying to drag me out of this house because you were worried what would happen with Ric. Not for _one_ minute have I thought you put Carly’s safety in front of mine. And I—” Her voice trembled. “And what happened was—I _was_ scared. But I got myself out of it. And Ric’s gone. He’s not in the equation. You—You can get me a lawyer who can get me a restraining order. I’m in less danger now—”

She looked at Bobbie. “It’s even worse now. Wherever Carly is, she’s _alone_. And I know she’s scared. Ric’s gone. If he was taking her food or supplies—I don’t know how—but if he was—then that’s done now. We have to find her now. _Today_. I don’t have to worry about Ric finding out what I’m doing anymore. He knows. So I need a ride to press charges, I _need_ to get a restraining order, so we can come back here and gut this place if we have. Rip out the walls. I don’t care.”

She pressed a hand to her head. “But I need a ride because I don’t think I can drive. I don’t feel that great.”

“We’ll go to the hospital after—”

“After we find her,” Elizabeth said, interrupting Bobbie. She gingerly moved towards her purse and knelt on the ground, trying to reach for the contents that had spilled in her desperation—for her wallet, her keys— “I _know_ what’s wrong with me, and there’s nothing Monica can do for me except give me more drugs, and I’m not interested in that.”

Bobbie helped her gather the rest of her things, and then helped her to stand. “Okay, let’s go press charges.”

“Elizabeth…” Jason hesitated. Holding her arm back. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. Bobbie tipped her head at Cody, and the two of them went outside.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not. I am—I’m _so_ far from okay, right now.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t even know what happened. What he accused me of—why—”

Jason picked up the torn _Port Charles Sun_ and held it out. She looked at him, then took it. “’Femme Fatale’,” she murmured. “Nice that I get top billing.” She found the main article and sighed at the photos the paper had dug up of her with Jason and Ric. “Lucky for them that they took this photo at just the right minute, huh?” She said, holding it up. “Five seconds later and I wouldn’t have been in the frame.”

“Elizabeth—”

“’Sources in the PCPD’,” she murmured, “’suggest that the affair is recent after a long period of estrangement. Jason Morgan reportedly spends hours in the newlywed’s home after Richard Lansing leaves…’” Her eyes burned. “I thought everyone was trying to keep Ric’s name out of the papers— _why_ would the PCPD leak his name and let them think—” She swallowed hard. “I guess…I mean.” She set the paper down. “It’s only partially a lie.” She licked her lips. “I mean—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“Elizabeth…”

She moved past him and picked up the baseball bat. “I brought this home from the studio a few days ago and hid it in the umbrella stand.’

He took it from her, turned it over in his hands. “It’s the one I got you last year.”

“Yeah. I didn’t get to use it.” When he handed it back, she tucked it back in the stand. “But I remember what you told me. Go for the knees.” She rubbed her chest again. “Let’s get this over with. Nikolas’s plane is supposed to be coming in soon, and I want to be able to focus on what we’re going to do next.”

“Okay,” Jason agreed. He opened the door for her, locked it, and then followed her down the walk.

Behind the walls of the living room, Carly sat on her cot, her arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth. _Oh, God, what was she going to do?_ Ric would never tell them where she was—she’d screamed herself raw while Ric was attacking Elizabeth—when the cops were there—

But he’d been right. The room was sound proof. And they were never ever going to find her. _She was going to die in these walls._


	12. Chapter Twelve

_We grew up way too fast_  
 _And now there's nothing to believe_  
 _And reruns all become our history_  
 _A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio_  
 _And I won't tell no one your name_  
 _And I won't tell 'em your name_  
\- Name, Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

_Saturday, June 28, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

When Elizabeth walked through the double doors of the squad room, Scott was leaning over Taggert’s desk, making notes on a police report. He straightened, cleared his throat, and smoothed his hand down his tie. “Elizabeth—Ah, Mrs. Lansing—”

She stopped, Bobbie and Jason just behind her. Her eyes were red and puffy, and some eyeliner was smudged under her eyes. He could see scratches and dark marks on her arms left bare by the red tank top she wore. “I never changed my name,” Elizabeth said without any emotion.

“Ah—"

“Scott,” Bobbie interrupted him as she stepped in front of Elizabeth and jabbed her ex-lover in the chest with her index finger. “I don’t even _know_ where to start with the level of incompetence and outright negligence that I have witnessed—my daughter is missing, and your officers have spent the last week chasing ghosts and gossip—”

“Bobbie—” Scott put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve already taken the steps to reprimand the officer who leaked the details of this investigation. Mac has put him on suspension—”

“You think that’s enough?” Bobbie demanded, shaking his hands off.

“No,” Scott said honestly. “In fact, Mac and I were just preparing a report to charge the officer with insubordination. He violated direct orders when he leaked that information.”

“Bobbie, Elizabeth—” Mac rose from the desk. “I can’t begin to express our apologies—”

“No, you can’t,” Elizabeth said dully. “So, can I make my statement and sign it? I have to file for an order of protection before Ric makes bail—”

“Oh, he’s not making bail anytime soon,” Scott said darkly. “He can’t be arraigned for another six or seven hours, and I’m asking for a full cash bail.”

“He’ll have trouble getting out if no one brings any cash,” Mac added. “At least until Monday when the bail bonds offices open.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Okay. Let’s just get this over with.”

She followed Taggert into the interrogation room while Bobbie and Jason went to the waiting area. Scott turned his attention to the officer who had joined. “Officer Rodriguez, you were first on scene.”

The rookie blinked at him, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. I—” He ran his hand back and forth through his short dark hair. “Um. I got a call over dispatch that Detective Taggert was on his way to pick Ric up for questioning but that he wanted me to do a welfare check. I was walking towards the house when—I guess it’s a bodyguard, I don’t know—he got out of his car. He was on the phone—I thought I heard something break inside. The next thing I know, the guard was running towards me—I was already at the door, pounding on it—we broke through when we heard screaming—”

He closed his eyes, swallowed. “Um, Miss Webber was—she was near the door, Mr. Lansing behind the sofa—she had a baseball bat and a phone in her hand.”

“She had a bat? Did it look she’d used it?”

“No—she—he was on the other side of the room—I think she’d just gotten to it. I don’t know. He doesn’t have any marks like that. Not like—”

“And she didn’t give a statement at the scene?”

“Not about what happened. Only that he got angry and put his hands on her when he saw the paper. She, ah, accused him of drugging her for months. Apparently, there are medical records that confirm an overdose last week—”

“Jesus Christ.” Scott sank into Taggert’s empty desk chair. “ _Months_ ,” he repeated. “There are—she can prove it?”

“I guess.” Cruz looked at Mac. “Did we really—I mean—the PCPD—we told the tabloids she was having an affair?”

“It was—it was a mistake,” Mac said faintly. “And not done in the way I instructed it—”

“I don’t—” Cruz shook his head. “Um. I need to—” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m due for a lunch break.”

“Yeah.” Mac waved him away and the rookie quickly disappeared. “He’s been drugging her for months,” he told Scott. “And we not only didn’t arrest him when we suspected him of doing it last week—but put her in danger by leaking a probably false rumor to the papers.”

“What’s this _we_ shit?” Scott muttered, but he bowed his head anyway.

**PCPD: Interrogation Room**

“Are you going to ask me about an affair?” Elizabeth asked with a sigh once she and Taggert were seated.

“What?” Taggert shook his head. “No. I don’t give a _shit_ about that, Elizabeth—pardon my French. I—” He swallowed. Tapped his pencil against his notepad. “ _I_ know what you’ve been doing this week. I know you and Morgan have been searching for Carly as hard as I have been. I had no idea that Cap—that anyone in this office thought differently. As soon I as saw that paper—I came to check on you—”

Elizabeth looked down at her arms, at the burgeoning bruise. “If I press—I mean, if this went to court—someone else would ask, wouldn’t they?”

“Probably,” Taggert said after a moment. “But—”

“We’re not—I mean, we’re not having an affair. Not the way the papers say. Jason was engaged until—until I guess yesterday,” she murmured. “But you know we have a history.”

“I do—”

“I just—I wanted to make it clear. Jason was just—he _was_ searching the house. And we’ve been—it’s been a stressful week. And I guess—I don’t—people respond to stress in—” She slid her fingertips lightly over the scratches on her arms left by the scrape of Ric’s nails as he’d grabbed for her. “Emotions ran high. But we _never_ slept together.”

“Okay.” Taggert dipped his head trying to catch her eye. “Even if you were doing what the paper said, he had no right to touch you. To do anything you—can you tell me about the drugs? Can you tell me what’s happened?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth met his eyes and started her statement.

**PCPD: Locker Room**

Dante and Lucky were changing for their shift when Cruz came through the doors. He sat down in front of his locker and just stared at it.

The two rookies exchanged looks, got up, and sat on either side of their friend. “I thought you were on guard duty today,” Dante said, touching Cruz’s shoulder.

“I was. Until the paper came out and Ric Lansing went after his wife.” Cruz swallowed hard. “Capelli told the _Sun_ Jason Morgan has been in the house every day for hours, and they printed accusations of an affair—”

“Went after?” Lucky repeated, lunging to his feet. “What the hell are you—is she _okay_?”

“She—he left some bruises—she got away, got her hands on a bat. I was right there, and I guess she was able to call the guy Morgan has watching her—but—” Cruz looked straight ahead. “Capelli put her in danger. This department _did_ that. We’ve all read the same reports—we knew what was going on. What Lansing was suspected of doing and—Capelli didn’t care. He did it anyway.”

Dante sighed, returned to his locker, and drew out his uniform shirt. “I’ve been on the job for a week, and it makes me sick to go to work. The only time I feel like I’m doing any good are the shifts I watch the Lansing house. Because I know I’m there to look out for the wife and to help find a missing woman.”

“I—” Lucky leaned against the bank of lockers. “I know. When I’m not pulling those shifts—I’m watching your cousin be completely lazy and—worse, he’s an _asshole_. We caught a sexual assault case earlier this week, and he—” He swallowed hard. “He treated the victim like trash. I thought about going to Mac, but he’s my superior officer and I’ve been on the job for a week.”

“This just isn’t what I thought I was going to do here,” Cruz said after a moment. “Capelli wanted Morgan to go after Lansing. I knew that. I knew he was hoping to scoop them all up. Taggert’s doing what he can, but he’s blinded by them, too. And Carly’s _still_ missing. They have no idea where she is.”

He drew in a deep breath. “I think maybe I should start looking for another station—another city. Maybe Buffalo—or shit, anywhere but here. I feel like every day I’m here, I’m becoming someone else.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’m going to last the year,” Dante admitted. “This city—this department—it’s the _reason_ people hate cops.”

**PCPD: Waiting Area**

Bobbie frowned down at her watch. “Nikolas’s plane is landing soon—” She sighed, rubbed her eyes. “What are we going to do next, Jason?”

“You’re going to pick him up,” Jason said. “I’ll take Elizabeth back to the Towers, and we’ll figure out the next step—” He hesitated. “I want to check on Sonny, Justus is going to meet us there, and I don’t want her to be alone. Not now. I know Baldwin says they’re going to keep Ric until tomorrow, but—”

“I can’t believe any of this.” Bobbie closed her eyes. “I can’t believe we still don’t have any idea what Ric has done with Carly, and I’m having trouble believing that we’re going to find her alive—”

“Hey.” Jason put an arm around her shoulders. “I—I know it’s hard, but I can’t let myself picture anything else.” He swallowed hard. “We’ll…cross that bridge if we have to, but—”

The back door to in the interrogation room opened and Taggert stepped out in front of Elizabeth. “I’ll let you know when we have an arraignment hearing,” he told her. “If he makes bail, I’ll warn you.” He looked at Jason and Bobbie. “I know you’re pissed at the department right now—”

“ _That_ is an understatement,” Bobbie retorted.

“And I know I shouldn’t admit liability, but what happened was a goddamn—” Taggert stopped. Shook his head. “We’re still looking for Carly, Bobbie. I’d like to search the house again, Elizabeth. I know we’ve been through it, I know you and Morgan have been through it, but—”

“Go ahead,” Elizabeth said, folding her arms across her chest. “I think Jason is taking me to a lawyer to start the TRO, right?”

“Yeah. Justus is going to meet us, and Bobbie is picking Nikolas up at the airport.”

“Even though Ric is out of the house, I’ll still keep an officer out front.” Taggert hesitated. “If that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.” Elizabeth sighed. “I just want to get out of here.” She crossed to Bobbie and Jason and they started for the doors.

“Morgan, you get any leads on Carly, you let me know,” Taggert told him. “I—I need to try to make this right.”

“You can’t,” Jason said flatly and left.

**Harborview Towers: Hallway**

Elizabeth and Jason stepped off the elevator, and he touched her elbow. “Justus is waiting at my place,” he told her. “With everything you need. I need to check on Sonny.”

“Right.” Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay. And then…we’re going to meet with Nikolas and figure out something.” Her mouth lifted in a half smile. “Maybe Taggert’s search _will_ find something we missed. Fresh eyes, right? That’s what we’re hoping for.”

“I don’t care who finds Carly, as long as _someone_ does.” Jason’s fingers tightened slightly at her elbow. “I wish you’d…reconsider going to the hospital. _Can_ I call Monica? Ask her to come—”

“I told you,” Elizabeth said, but her tone was gentle. She pressed her hand against his chest, her eyes on his. “Monica gave me a rundown of what I’d be going through for a while. I’ve been irritable, tired, dizzy, nauseous—but I’m halfway through. I can’t think of any way he could have drugged me at all since Saturday. I haven’t eaten or drank anything at the house except water from the tap.”

“I know, but…” Jason shook his head. He covered her hand with his. “I’m just worried.”

“Tell you what—if after we talk to Nikolas, we don’t have anything new to look at—we’ll call Monica. I’ll let her do whatever she wants.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I _don’t_ want to be someone you worry about.” She broke eye contact. “I mean—I don’t want you to think of someone else you have to take care of—”

“I don’t want you hurt. And I’m sorry,” Jason’s voice lowered a bit as he tipped her chin up so their eyes met again. “But I care about you. And I’m not going to pretend that I don’t. Not anymore.”

“We’ll call Monica if we don’t figure out the next step,” Elizabeth said after a moment as warmth spread through her. “But right now, you need to check on Sonny, and _I_ need to get Ric out of my life.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Guest Bedroom**

Sonny was propped up in his bed, clad in a pair of black silk pajamas, his eyes clearer than they had been the day before.

At his side, Max was cleaning up a lunch tray and quietly nodded to Jason as they passed one another.

“You drugged me,” Sonny said simply as Jason stood in front of him. “I woke up about an hour ago with no idea what’s—” He hesitated. “The last thing I remember is yelling at my sister. Max said it’s Saturday…I lost…I lost almost _six_ days.”

“Yeah.” Jason sat on the edge of the bed. “You were talking to Lily.”

Sonny closed his eyes. “I’m useless, aren’t I? I had _one_ job. Keep the police out of our hair so you could find Carly, and you’ve had to deal with everything—”

“You got the ball rolling—Justus pushed off the warrants—there’s a hearing next week, but we’re going to be fine.” Jason scrubbed his hands over his face. “But I think Baldwin is going to cancel the hearing anyway. He’s…the PCPD is going to be lucky to survive this investigation without Mac or Scott losing their jobs.”

Sonny frowned. Sat up more firmly. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“It’s not about Carly. We don’t have—we don’t know where the hell she is, where Ric has her. But the—someone in the PCPD told the tabloids that I’ve been at the house every day and they did this cover story about Elizabeth and me—” Jason grimaced again. “Accusing us—Ric went after her.”

“Is—” Sonny shoved the blankets aside and hauled himself out of bed. “She’s okay, or you wouldn’t be here—did you—”

“Taggert wasn’t part of it. He saw the story and was already on his way to the house. She got herself away from him—got to the phone, called Cody—we all kind of got there at once. Ric’s been arrested—Elizabeth isn’t going to have to lie to him anymore—”

“Well, I guess _that’s_ something,” Sonny murmured. He rubbed his chest. “Where is she? Is she okay—did he hurt her? I mean—”

“She’s—managing. She’s at my place meeting with Justus.” Jason hesitated. “Bobbie called in Nikolas Cassadine. He was the only person she could think of that might…be able to…I don’t know…we just needed someone else. Someone who hasn’t been living with this for a week. I, ah, sent Michael to the island with Courtney yesterday.”

Sonny eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. “Let me get dressed. I’ll be over, and we’ll see if we can’t do something. I need…I need to do something. I need to help, Jason. I think leaving the search to you is what drove me the over edge. I have to feel like I’m doing _something_ to protect Carly.”

Jason nodded. “I’ll see you over there.”

**Morgan Penthouse: Living Room**

Justus was sliding a folder into his briefcase and closing it when Jason opened the door. Elizabeth looked worn out—as if she’d been up for days. Jason wasn’t satisfied with waiting to call Monica—he had to convince her to talk to someone first.

“Hey, is Sonny okay?” Elizabeth got to her feet. She closed her eyes, swayed just a little, and put her hand on the arm of the sofa to steady herself.

“He’s on his way over. He’s a lot better.” Jason looked at Justus. “Do you think they’ll give her the TRO?”

“I’m on my way to file it,” Justus said. He glanced at Elizabeth who sighed.

“And he’s filing a notice of legal separation. I wanted him to start divorce proceedings,” Elizabeth said. “But Justus thinks I should find someone who specializes in family law.” She folded arms. “I really just want it over with.”

“I think you’ve got a good case for an annulment,” Justus told her. “And since you don’t want anything—you might be happier in the long run without a divorce on your record.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll talk over my options _after_ we find Carly.”

“I’d better go file these so that the order can go into effect before Ric gets released. Call me if you need anything, Jase.” Justus touched his shoulder as he passed him, then left.

“You okay?”

“Aren’t you tired of asking me that yet?” Elizabeth asked dully. She sat back down, put a hand to her head. “Um…could I have some water? I haven’t—” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t really get a chance to eat anything this morning, and I need some aspirin.”

“You should eat something,” Jason said. “Let me—”

“We can grab something on the way to the house—”

“ _Stop_ being so damn stubborn,” he cut in, throwing his hands in the air. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Elizabeth—”

“Have _you_ eaten today?” she demanded. Her face flushed, she got to her feet—too quickly—because she stumbled and nearly pitched forward over the coffee table. Jason caught her, wrapping his arms around her waist and putting her back on her feet.

He didn’t release her right away, and she let her head fall back against his chest, slumping slightly. “You’re not taking care of yourself either,” she murmured. “We’re both pushing too hard.” His hands were splayed against her abdomen, and she covered them with her own. “You, me—Sonny, Bobbie.” She turned, sliding her hands up his chest. “Did you eat today? _Yesterday_?”

“I—” Jason hesitated. Shook his head. “I can’t really remember.”

“Okay.” She nodded and then pulled away from him. She walked across to the penthouse door, opened it. At Jason’s door, Cody was there along with Milo. “Hey. I haven’t eaten—and I know Bobbie hasn’t. I’m afraid it might take too long for delivery, but—”

“I’ll go get some things from Kelly’s,” Cody said, as if eager to for way to help. “Some sandwiches. I’ll go right now.” He hesitated. “Don’t go back to the house without me.”

“Thanks, Cody.” She started to close the door but then Sonny rounded the corner from his penthouse. “Hey.” She stepped forward, embraced him. “How are you doing?”

“Surviving,” Sonny said. He hugged her back, and they both went into the penthouse, closing the door behind him.  “How about you?”

“I think _surviving_ is a strong word,” Elizabeth sighed. She sat back on the sofa and took the water Jason had gotten for her while she was at the door. He also handed her a bottle of Tylenol. “Thanks.”

“We’re waiting on Nikolas and Bobbie?” Sonny said. “We really don’t—” He grimaced. “No leads?”

“Just the house,” Elizabeth started to say, but Milo knocked on the door, then opened it. Bobbie stepped through, followed by Nikolas Cassadine.

Nikolas looked a bit hesitant, no doubt because she and Nikolas hadn’t really been close for a long time—and of course, Nikolas had _never_ been a big fan of Sonny and Jason.

“Nikolas. Hey.” Elizabeth started to get up again, but he waved at her to remain seated.

“Bobbie said you’ve been ill, so don’t get up for me—” He flicked his eyes to Sonny, then Jason, before looking back to Elizabeth. “Apparently, you need some insight into crazy lunatics, and God knows, _my_ family has them in spades.”

“I was just about to tell Sonny what we’ve been doing,” Jason said. He sat on the sofa, next to Elizabeth, which made Nikolas tilt his head slightly, but he said nothing.

Sonny dragged out the desk chair, Bobbie sat in the arm chair, and Nikolas remained standing. Quickly, Jason told him what had gone on during the last week.

“So, you’re convinced the house has to have some sort of role to play,” Nikolas said. “Because Faith Roscoe said Ric was obsessed with the right _kind_ of house?”

“The timeline, too,” Elizabeth said. She turned, tucking a leg underneath her body. “I came home last Friday around six, and I think—” She bit her lip. “No, I _know_ —Ric had poured me a glass of champagne. I drank it, and I don’t really remember anything after that until I woke up. It was just…just seven. I remember looking at a clock upstairs.”

“Carly went missing about fifteen minutes before seven,” Jason said. “He wouldn’t have had time to take her anywhere else.”

“I called around then,” Nikolas said, squinting his eyes. “I had spoken to Bobbie earlier—just before five, I think. You hadn’t left for the church yet,” he told Bobbie. “And you gave me the number. No one answered.”

“I think that’s because I was passed out and Ric was gone.” She looked at Jason. “You were going to check the time of that call—”

“Six fifty,” Jason said. “Ric wasn’t there.”

“The timing seems too tight,” Nikolas agreed. “I agree with you on that. As someone who has…” He coughed. “A bit of experience with moving people around who are not…”

“He means when I faked my death and he had to move my body so that Sonny could arrange to pick me up and get me to safety,” Elizabeth said dryly. “It’s time consuming.”

“It took forever,” Nikolas agreed. “And _you_ weren’t six months pregnant.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But the PCPD searched that night.”

“And Jason and I searched that house a thousand times. We’ve put cameras in Ric’s bedroom, in his study—on the stairs—” Elizabeth shook his head. “A GPS on his car—Jason’s had people following him, I’m sure the cops have. The PCPD has been outside the house since that night. There’s no way Ric brought her to the house and _then_ moved her.”

“So, she’s either in the house or she was never there.” Nikolas pursed his lips. “Have you spoken to the real estate agent who sold the house?”

Jason blinked, and Elizabeth stared at Nikolas for a long time. How…Jason closed his eyes. “The real estate agent would know what Ric was looking for,” he muttered, irritated with himself

“Seems to me there’s a hidden room in the house,” Nikolas continued. “One of those…” He gestured with his hand. “Panic rooms. We have three of them at Wyndemere. Uncle put them in after the first time Grandmother…descended upon us. One in each wing. They’re hidden with the structure of the house—tucked in some dead space or something. Usually a remote to open them or a button somewhere. They’re supposed to be for safety—a phone line, supplies. Sometimes there are cameras.”

Jason pressed his lips together and scowled. Of course.

“Why didn’t _we_ think of that?” Elizabeth demanded of him. “Of course—”

“Neither of you have slept or eaten the way you should have,” Bobbie muttered. “And I guess—of course—”

“Fresh eyes,” Nikolas said easily. “And my family is certifiably insane. It’s easier for me to find the crazy.” He nodded. “So, what do we do—”

“Wait, wouldn’t you have seen a hidden room on the security footage?” Sonny demanded. “You’ve had cameras in place since Sunday—”

“Not in the living room.” Jason said. “We just put those in yesterday, and Stan and Spinelli have hours of footage to go through. They’re also doing other tech stuff—background on Ric, financial records, trying to stay ahead of the cops—” He shook his head. “And the living room makes sense—”

“Because that first night, Ric sent me _upstairs_. He wanted me to take a shower. He was irritated—he said I was done faster than he thought—” Elizabeth rubbed her mouth. “He came upstairs just after I—you said there are cameras?”

“So, he could monitor where you were,” Nikolas said. “Probably a camera out front.”

Bobbie got to her feet. “Well, we’ll just tear the damn house apart,” she said, starting for the door. Sonny reached out, stopped her. “What?”

“Let’s approach this carefully, Bobbie—”

“ _Carefully_? Carly’s been in a goddamn panic room for over a week, and Ric hasn’t been in there today to bring her food—”

“Jason and I have searched every inch of that house, Bobbie. I never saw anything that looked like it might be a button.” Elizabeth got to her feet, and Jason followed suit, bracing a hand at the small of her back when she swayed slightly.

“I think that Bobbie and I should meet with the real estate agent,” Nikolas suggested. “We can hopefully confirm the existence of the room and even get its location.” He nodded at Sonny. “I think you may want to go where this security footage is.”

Sonny narrowed his eyes almost as if he wanted to question how the hell _Nikolas_ had ended up in charge—but honestly—no one in the room could argue. Within ten minutes of his arrival, Nikolas had given all of them a sense of hope. He was the only one who could claim to be well-rested and clear-headed.

He hadn’t been living in hell for the last eight days.

“We can go back to the house,” Elizabeth told Jason. “We can start looking for any empty space and someone should be there if anyone gets a location. The sooner the better.”

“We’re going to eat first,” Jason said firmly. He looked at Bobbie who opened her mouth to argue. “Bobbie, you were here this morning—we’ve been at the station all day—and Elizabeth is going to fall over. The only way _she’ll_ eat is if _we_ eat, too.”

Bobbie sighed, but Cody opened the door then. He handed them the takeout bags, and Bobbie quickly distributed the food. “You can stay here,” she said, a container in her hands. “But I’ll eat on the go.”

“We can eat at the house,” Elizabeth said, and this time, Jason didn’t argue. They all felt so close to finding Carly—a sense of optimism that they hadn’t felt since the day she’d gone missing.

Today was the day.

**Lansing Home: Living Room**

Elizabeth had managed to eat a few bites of the burger Cody had brought, and Jason had to settle for that—she’d also watched him like a hawk to make sure he ate as well.

Finally, he agreed to start searching.

“I was hoping Nikolas would have called already,” Elizabeth murmured as they started with the wall against the door. Jason was looking under the desk and umbrella stand while Elizabeth ran her fingers over the door frame. “He can be charming when he wants to be.”

“I don’t know why _I_ didn’t think of the real estate agent,” Jason muttered. “We’ve been saying all along the house was the key—”

“Because we thought Ric had some sort of paperwork or clue here,” Elizabeth argued. She scowled as she moved onto the bookcase. “Not that the house _itself_ was important. You said Faith Roscoe told you that yesterday.”

“Last night really,” Jason admitted. He hesitated. “She was working with Ned and Ric.”

“The whole time?” Elizabeth stopped, looked at him. “Since—since November?” She sighed, looked back at the bookcase, sliding her fingers behind it. She knelt and felt along the baseboards. “They were sleeping together, weren’t they?”

“Yes. At some point. I don’t know when or if it stopped.”

He watched her carefully. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I guess not. She…always gave me the creeps. She was always around, you know? And…she came by the hospital after I fell.” Elizabeth looked up. Met his eyes. “She pushed me, didn’t she? Because I was pregnant, and Ric had married me.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” Elizabeth stood and moved to the other side of the bookcase, momentarily slipping out of view. “Well, she can have him.”

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” Jason said before he could think it through. Elizabeth stepped back and looked him, tilting her head. “ _Ever_.”

She bit her lip. “Did—Did she help Ric with Carly?”

“No. Carly wasn’t part of the plan. Ned told me Ric stopped returning phone calls around the time everything happened at Martha’s Vineyard. He didn’t know Ric was Sonny’s…” Jason shook his head. “She wouldn’t have helped him.”

“No, I guess not.” Elizabeth licked her lips and squinted a bit, almost as if she wanted to ask but didn’t. “Okay. I don’t have to worry about her. One less thing.”

She returned her attention to the wall that ran towards the stairwell, sighing. “I know there has to be something here.” When she knelt again to feel along the baseboards on that side, she slipped and fell against the wall. “Damn it. I can’t keep my head—” She pressed her hand to her head. “Is the air conditioner on? Did we turn it off?”

Jason strode over to her and helped her to her feet. He guided her over to the sofa. “You feel warm,” he murmured, pressing the back of his hand to her cheeks. “Is that one of the side effects Monica mentioned?”

“I don’t really remember,” she admitted. “There was a huge list, and I—she wanted to give me pamphlets, but I didn’t—”

“Want Ric to see them,” Jason muttered. He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Monica.”

“Jason—” Elizabeth put a hand over his to stop him from dialing. “She said all they could do is give me _more_ pills to deal with those symptoms, and I don’t want them. I don’t want any pills—” She bit off her irritation. “I get that you’re worried, but this is _my_ life, and I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Someone has to—”

“Oh, and that’s _you_?” Elizabeth jerked to her feet and slapped his hands away when he tried to steady her. “It’s been more than six months, Jason, since you gave a damn. I _know_ you feel guilty Ric went after me because of you, but I can take care of myself. I’m doing fine—”

“I never stopped—” Jason stood, irritated. “ _You’re_ the one who left me.”

“Because you lied!” She threw her hands up in the air, clenched her jaw. “And _don’t_ act like you spent a lot of time missing me. You were screwing Courtney by Christmas—” She stopped, closed her eyes, and put her hands up. “I am _not_ doing this. I am not someone you need to _save_ , Jason. I got myself into this mess, I’m going to get myself out of it—”

Jason swallowed. “I can explain about Courtney,” he said, even though he didn’t know what he’d even say. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t what you think—”

“You mean you didn’t fall in love with her when you were with her all the time?” Elizabeth arched her brows with a smirk. “Because you know, Jason, I don’t know _what_ I’m supposed to think. You were either guarding Brenda—who you married—or Courtney—who you _almost_ married. But me—I’m the one who got kidnapped and shot at—you ignored _me_ for weeks and let me think your best friend was dead. So please—tell me what _you think_ I think happened.”

He hesitated. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad,” he admitted. It sounded…terrible. Calculating. “And maybe I can’t explain it.”

“It doesn’t matter. _Not_ right now.” She pressed her hands to her eyes. “We’re not going to re-litigate this. We already agreed we hurt each other a lot last summer. Between Zander and Courtney, I don’t think either one of us has any room to talk. It’s—it’s over. It happened. I know you care about me. I care about you. Let’s just—we’ll find Carly and—” She sighed and looked at him. “I can’t think about what happens after that, Jason. I really can’t.”

“Elizabeth—” His phone rang, and he yanked it out. “Yeah?”

_“Jason, we’ve found the real estate agent,” Bobbie sighed. “He confirmed that Ric wanted a house with a panic room, but he refuses to tell us where. Nikolas thought you might…come and …”_

“Threaten him?” Jason supplied.

_“Yeah.”_

“Give me the address, we’ll be right there.” When she did so, he slid the phone back in his pocket. “Nikolas needs me to threaten the real estate agent. There’s a panic room—but he won’t tell us.”

“Then you have to go. I’ll stay here,” Elizabeth said. When Jason opened his mouth, she lifted her chin in that stubborn expression he hated. “We agreed. _Someone_ had to be here if we got the location. Sonny could call, too. The faster we find Carly, the sooner this is over.”

“I—” Jason shook his head. “I don’t want you alone—” He grimaced. “It’s not that I—”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” Elizabeth said. “So, you can tell Cody to come in and keep me company, and hell, let the cop in. I saw him at the curb when we got here. They can help me keep looking.” When he still didn’t look convinced, she sighed and cross the room to him. She put her hands on either side of his face. “Carly comes first. We both agreed. And…now we _know_. There’s a panic room in this house. I am not going to let her be alone. If there are cameras, then she has watched us search for her for days. I’m _not_ leaving her.”

“I—” Jason wrapped his hands around hers and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing them gently. “Okay. I know you’re right. I just—the last time I let you out of my sight—”

“I get it.” She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his. “Go find out where this panic room so we can bring Carly home.”

He sighed and kissed her again. “I don’t care what happened last year,” he told her. “I care about now.”

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised. He finally released her hands and started for the door. “You scare the crap out of that guy and call me. I want to be able to give you the phone and let you talk to Carly. Got it? And send in my…” She wiggled her hand. “My entourage, I guess. Might as well put them to work.”

He opened the door. “We’re going to find her today,” he told her. “This is the first time I’ve actually felt like that was true.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Oh days go by I'm hypnotized_  
 _I'm walking on a wire_  
 _I close my eyes and fly out of my mind_  
 _Into the fire_  
 _Oh light the sky and hold on tight_  
 _The world is burning down_  
 _She's out there on her own and she's alright_  
 _Sunny came home_  
\- Sunny Came Home, Shawn Colvin

* * *

_Saturday, June 28, 2003_

**Lansing Home: Living Room**

Cody and Cruz stepped inside the house, both looking at each other hesitantly. The cop and the mob bodyguard. If Elizabeth had the energy, she might feel sorry for the rookie. It had been a hell of a first week for him. Cody eyed the younger man with an air of suspicion.  “Ah, Jason said you wanted us both?” he asked, with his brows raised.

“Yes.” Elizabeth looked at the officer. “Right now, you know I’m _not_ the biggest fan of your department.”

Cruz looked away, unable to meet her eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Miss Webber, to be brutally honest, what happened makes me physically ill. I’m sorry—”

“But I know _you_ didn’t do it. So that’s why I’m asking for your help.” She pressed her hand to her chest, irritated at the ache and exhaustion creeping into her bones. She just had to hang in there a little longer. “Nikolas and Bobbie talked to the real estate who sold Ric the house. There’s a panic room.”

Cruz blinked, then straightened his shoulders. “A panic room?” he repeated. His eyes lifted to the ceiling, started to glance around the room. “They’re hidden within the structure, right? You can’t see them from the outside?”

“Exactly. The agent wouldn’t tell Nikolas where it was, so Jason went to…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “ _Convince_ him. We’ve had the house under surveillance for a week hoping Ric would give something away, but yesterday we put in cameras here in the living room. Sonny and some of his men are watching footage right now. Any minute, _one_ of them are going to call and tell us where the panic room and how to get into it.”

Cody exhaled slowly. “Holy hell, you did it.”

Cruz squinted. “So…if you don’t trust the department—”

“You can call anyone you want _after_ we find Carly,” Elizabeth told him. “But if we tell Taggert now, I don’t know what they’ll do with the information. I’m not convinced they don’t want Sonny and Jason more than they want to find Ric. It’s important to me that _we_ find Carly first. Taggert might go after the agent who might clam up—”

“Telling the PCPD might cause more problems than it solves.” Cruz nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” With a weariness that no cop should feel after seven days on the job, he took a deep breath. “What can we do until they call?”

“Jason and I were looking for a switch or something that might tell us…” She gestured to the wall near the door. “We’ve searched that—” She stopped, her lungs seizing up as she struggled for breath. _Oh, God_. What was wrong? She gripped the back of the sofa and tried to take smaller breaths but struggled to force air down her throat.

“Miss Webber?” Cruz said stepping forward, Cody on his heels. “You don’t look so good—”

“It’s…It’s the withdrawal,” Elizabeth managed as the sensation passed. She could breathe now—at least get air into her lungs. “Um, from the benzos—Monica said it was going to be bad for the first two weeks.”

Cody hesitated. “You’re sure—”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, her teeth clenched. “I just have to get through it. It’s almost over. We’re—we’re going to find Carly—so—” Her cell phone rang—the little burner cell that sat on the coffee table. She stared at it wondering if she could make there in time before the ringing stopped.

Cody fetched it for her and handed it over.

“Hello?” Elizabeth said as the pounding in her chest began to echo in her ears. “Jason?”

_“Sonny just called,” Jason said, his tone clipped. Short. Breathless. “They—they got it. Ric came into the living room at—the table against the wall, Elizabeth. The one near the stairs.”_

Elizabeth turned. “The one with the cabinets underneath—”

_“In the middle cabinet. Ric opened it, did something, and then—he disappears. I can’t tell but I think the panic room is across from the door—”_

She stared at the wall, at the smooth expanse. “Right there. The whole time—” She stumbled towards the cabinet, but her legs gave out, and she fell against it. She tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t force the breath into her lungs. Oh, God. Not now. “Where are you?”

_“Turning around, coming back—we’re all on our way—”_

“I found a button—” Right there. Tucked in the corner by the door. She pressed it. Something whirled and groaned behind her, but it all felt so far away.

“Holy shit,” Cody murmured as Elizabeth turned her head—but they could already hear the screaming.

Carly’s voice, hoarse, raw came pouring out. “Press it, press it! Please—Thank God, thank God, _you found me_ —”

But already Carly’s voice was receding. Her vision was dimming, fading at the edges. “J-Jason.”

_“Elizabeth—I can hear her—” the relief was so evident in his voice, it was almost as if he was right in front of her. “I can—we did it—”_

“You—I can’t b-breathe…” Elizabeth kept her eyes locked on Carly. Dimly, she could hear Cruz calling in for backup and an ambulance—he’d gone inside the room—but Cody was in front of her. Oh…he looked so concerned.

_“Elizabeth?” Jason demanded. “Hey. Hey, are you there—”_

“She’s okay,” Elizabeth murmured, but her words were slurring. “We did it.”

_“Elizabeth, stay with me. Keep talking to me—”_

“Can’t.” She closed her eyes, her wrist trembling with the effort to keep the phone at her ear. Cody was still talking but she couldn’t hear anything. “Always…liked your voice…”

Even as he called her name, the phone slid from her hand and the grays and blacks filled her vision until she couldn’t see anything.

**Lansing Home: Street**

Jason didn’t even know if he’d pulled the car into park or turned it off because he was shoving the door open and sprinting up the lawn. Near him, he was aware of other cars pulling up—of the sirens of an ambulance somewhere in the distance—

He registered Sonny’s voice, Bobbie’s cries—but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t take any of that in. He shoved through the door, all but taking it off the hinges.

A large gaping hole had opened directly in front of him, and oh, God—Carly—she was _there_ , a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was sobbing, pointing down—the cop was next to her, holding her leg—

And Cody was behind the sofa, leaning over Elizabeth, who lay sprawled out over the hardwood floor, the phone still flipped open. Her eyes were closed, her skin almost gray.

Jason rushed forward, sliding to his knees at her side. Sonny and Bobbie rushed in, crying, screaming Carly’s name.

All of that disappeared as Jason cradled Elizabeth’s limp head in his hands. Her breathing was faint, and—he took her wrist—her pulse was barely there. “What happened?” he demanded. “ _What happened_?”

“I—” Cody shook his head. “One second, she was explaining what we were going to be looking for—and then she couldn’t catch her breath. She managed to get the door open, but then she—She just passed out.”

Leaving Carly to her husband and mother, Cruz joined them, his eyes wild. “What’s going on? There’s an ambulance—” he started to say, but his voice had raised in pitch. The rookie was clearly out of his depth.

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered and then she smiled, seeing Jason at her side. “You…you’re here…” but her words were still slurring, sliding into one another.

“Right here. I’m not going to leave again,” he told her, gripping her hand in his. “Stay with me, Elizabeth. Don’t close your eyes.”

“Can’t…” Her eyes fluttered. “Can’t stay.”

“Don’t you _dare_ —”

“I found her. It’s okay.” She tried to squeeze his hand, but her grip was as weak as Michael’s had been when he’d been a newborn. Weaker, Jason realized, his heart pounding in his ears.

“ _You_ did it—”

Bobbie knelt, and Cody slid down out of her way. She took Elizabeth’s pulse, felt for her heartbeat and swore. “Her heart is racing—”

“How is that _possible_? Her pulse is barely—” Jason swallowed in fear. “What the hell did—”

“He drugged her…” Carly rasped as she limped towards them, Sonny holding her upright. “Drugs—”

“We know, with Valium, but—” Bobbie shook her head. “Elizabeth, hey, look at me, sweetheart.” Behind them, Nikolas hovered, worry in his dark eyes, and they could hear the ambulance coming closer.

“Elizabeth,” Bobbie said again. “Look at me—”

“Just want to go,” she murmured. Her eyes were unfocused and then…her eyes closed. “Want to go. Hurts.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Birth control,” Carly managed to get out as the ambulance screeched to a stop on a squeal of brakes. Cruz went outside to let them in. “He gave her birth control pills. Lots of it. He put it in the ice cubes. Every night. _Every_ time she took a drink—”

Bobbie’s eyes bulged as she met Jason’s. “Birth control,” she breathed. “ _Jesus Christ_. Rodriguez!” she cried. “Tell them to bring a defibrillator!”

“What?” Jason demanded. He tore his eyes away from Bobbie, then back to Elizabeth whose breathing had grown even more faint. “Elizabeth, hey, hey, please open your eyes. Let me see your eyes.” His voice broke. “They’re so beautiful. Let me see your eyes.”

She fought to open them. Her free hand came up and brushed his cheek. “Yours…like yours…. more…. sorry. Messed…it up.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Love…” And then her head slid to the other side, her hand dropped back to her side. Her chest stopped rising.

“Bobbie!” Nikolas shouted from the doorway, but then the paramedics were there. They came rushing in with a boxy object. Jason didn’t want to go, didn’t want to drop her hand—but he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t help her now.

He watched in horror as the paramedics looked at one another for a split second before exploding into action. One tore Elizabeth’s tank top, and the other slapped electrodes on her pale skin. Her tiny body jerked as they shocked her.

“Still in V-fib. Charge it again—”

“Clear—”

“Oh, God,” Carly choked as Bobbie leaned over Jason’s hunched form by Elizabeth. “Oh, God. _He killed her_.”

Another ambulance came to a stop outside, and more paramedics came in—each wheeling in a stretcher. One rolled towards Carly, and the other—

“Clear—”

And then they got her back—he knew it because the box wasn’t screaming anymore. Everything happened in a blur after that—Elizabeth was placed on the other stretcher and rolled towards the door. Jason followed without even thinking, without even looking at Carly.

Nikolas was clutching at his hair, both of his hands digging into the dark strands. “Jesus Christ. What _was_ that? They—they got her back?”

The second set of paramedics were settling Carly onto the other stretcher, and the blonde was sobbing. “She was trying to save me, wasn’t she? She stayed, and he poisoned her every day because of me—”

“Carly—” Sonny’s soft words were lost as the stretcher wheeled towards the door, with him next to it.

“Pulmonary embolism,” Bobbie murmured as the room cleared. She looked at the trio left behind—at Cruz, Cody, and Nikolas, all of them shell-shocked. “Blood clot in the lungs. It’s a common…side effect of estrogen imbalance or overdose.”

“But you know what it is—” Nikolas took her arm. “They know—”

“Patients who have gone into cardiac arrest have a high mortality rate.” Bobbie pressed her hands to her face, trying to process. Trying to understand. “We thought it was just—I never dreamed—Oh, God, he’s killed her—”

“ _Stop it!_ ” Nikolas shook her a little more roughly than he meant, as if trying to shake sense into them both. “They got her back. You know what it is. We have to go to the hospital. We have to tell Monica and make sure that Ric can’t make any decisions.”

“What?” Bobbie blinked at him. “What?”

“He is her husband,” Nikolas said. “And she’s his best chance to get out of this. If Elizabeth dies, all of this—this might go with her.”

“No.” Bobbie shook her head, even as everything inside her screamed of course he was right. Reasonable doubt was all Ric needed. He _could_ blame everything on Elizabeth. “We—we have to go. We have to go.”

“I’ll stay,” Cody said to Cruz as the two of them rushed out. “You—you need someone to give a statement.” He touched the rookie’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“No.” Cruz shook his head slowly. “No, I’m not. Everything she went through today—she did it with that happening inside her—and now she might die.” He exhaled slowly. “I’m supposed to protect people.”

“Welcome to Port Charles,” Cody said with a smirk as the cavalry arrived with Taggert and Mac rushing up to the lawn, followed by several other uniforms.

**General Hospital: Emergency Room**

Monica was already waiting when the doors swung open. They’d lost Elizabeth again in the ambulance, and Jason could see from the paramedics that they didn’t expect her to make it.

That cardiac arrest with a pulmonary embolism was a lethal combination—that once the blood clot had gone to her heart, that survival was almost impossible.

Somewhere in Jason’s head, that made sense, but he couldn’t let himself even think it.

Elizabeth had, until her final moments of consciousness, been trying to find and free Carly because Carly was _his_ best friend. Because she was a kind and giving person. And even though Jason damn well knew differently, the world wasn’t supposed to give up on people like her.

“Jason,” Monica started as Elizabeth was wheeled into a trauma room. “The paramedics on the scene suspect a pulmonary embolism.” She touched his arm. “We’re going to confirm with an echocardiogram—”

“Just do whatever—” His voice failed him, and he had to close his eyes. “Just do whatever you have to do,” he managed.

“They’re stabilizing her for the test now, but I need you to know that if it’s true, then—”

“Then her chances aren’t good—”

“They’re almost non-existent,” Monica told him, and he snapped to attention at _that_ , because that was different. This was Monica, and she loved him. She wouldn’t say that without a reason. “Mortality rate is ninety-five percent, Jason. By the time the clot reaches the heart—”

Jason shook his head. “No. _No_ —” His throat seized, and he just kept shaking his head. “No. She’s stronger than that—”

“Okay, okay.” She took his face in her hands and he met her eyes. “I’m going to do my very best,” she murmured. “I promise you.” She kissed his forehead, and then she disappeared behind the curtain.

Another stretcher came through the doors—Carly, followed by Bobbie and Sonny. Jason turned, looked at her, dragging his hands through his hair. He wanted to follow them, wanted to see Carly, to check on her, but his feet felt glued to the floor.

Sonny murmured something to Carly and Bobbie before they were whisked away behind another curtain. “Jase? What’s going—”

“Monica thinks it’s too late.” Jason swallowed. “The blood clot reached her heart, and she went into cardiac arrest twice—they’re, uh, confirming the diagnosis, but—” The room started to spin, and Jason sagged.

Sonny half dragged him to one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and then knelt in front him. “Hey. No one fights like Elizabeth Webber. Jason—”

“I _knew_ something was wrong. I kept asking her to go see Monica, to take care of herself, but she refused. We were so close, and I let her—I let put her life at risk, so _I_ could find my friend—”

“And I can never ever repay Elizabeth for that.” Sonny shook his head. “They’re looking Carly over, but she’s in remarkably good health, they said. She’s okay. My child is okay. And I can’t imagine the universe would give her back to me and take Elizabeth.”

“You _know_ it doesn’t work like that, Sonny—”

They both lunged to their feet as Elizabeth was rolled past them on a gurney, her eyes closed, her head lolling to one side. Jason started to follow, but Monica stopped him, nodding to another doctor, a younger man, tall with a shock of dark hair.

He sighed and stepped away from the team as Elizabeth disappeared around a corner.

“Where are you taking her?” Jason demanded.

“You’re the next of kin?” The doctor said with an arched brow. “They’re taking her to get an echocardiogram. It wasn’t the right set up in there, and then from there, they’ll probably take her straight to the cath lab to start thrombolysis.” He hesitated. “They got her stabilized, man. Her chances went up to about fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” Sonny demanded. “ _That’s_ supposed to make us feel better?”

“It was at five percent,” the doctor pointed out. “So…that’s not nothing. It might take a few hours. We’ll know more then.” He shrugged and disappeared down the same hallway as Elizabeth, jogging to keep up.

“That’s good.” Sonny patted Jason’s shoulder. “They’re giving her better odds.”

“Yeah, only an eighty-five percent chance she’ll die. Great.” Jason scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, okay, I need to see Carly. I’m sorry, I didn’t even—”

“She gets it.” Sonny managed a half smile. “More than you might think. C’mon.”

Jason followed him to Carly’s examining area where the blonde was laying back against the pillows, her eyes closed. There she was. After a week of desperation, fear—his best friend had emerged mostly unscathed.

“Carly,” he managed, taking her hand in his. “Hey. Hey. I’m sorry it took so long—”

“I saw you,” she said, without opening her eyes. “Every day. I _saw_ you looking for me. I saw you today, searching the walls. I knew you were getting closer.” Her dark eyes found his. “I knew you never stopped. I knew you and Elizabeth wouldn’t stop until you found me.”

“We didn’t.” Jason’s throat tightened. “Thank you. We—we were able to help her faster because of you.”

“I wanted to stop your wedding,” Carly said with a faint smile. “ _That’s_ what I was thinking before Ric grabbed me. I knew you were miserable. That you didn’t love her. I was thinking about how angry you’d be, but I was gonna do it anyway.”

Bobbie laughed with some surprise while Sonny looked pleased as if this was a sign his wife had come through this traumatic experience without any scars.

Jason sighed, but he didn’t look upset “Carly—”

“I didn’t mean I wanted to get kidnapped,” she said dryly. “But, hey, I stopped it. And you—” Her eyes filled. “I couldn’t help her. I _couldn’t_ make him stop trying to hurt with the pills…I tried to stop him from taking—they’re in the panic room. In a lock box. He’d get them every day, make new ice cube trays. In the middle of the night. I saw the Valium, too. He didn’t use that again. Not after last week. But he used something else, something to make her tired and sleep. And the birth control.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “You did help her. You told us—”

“He was hurting her today. I saw it. I was screaming, but I couldn’t make it stop. And then they arrested him, and I was so scared it would never be over—” She squeezed her eyes shut as Sonny came to her other side. “I was scared I would die in those walls.”

“I was going to start ripping holes in the drywall,” Bobbie promised. “I was _never_ going to let that happen.”

“I know, Mama. But you came back today, Jason, and I saw you searching again, but this time—you were searching the walls. I knew it would be today. I knew you would find me.” She closed her eyes. “She can’t die. It’s not fair.”

“They took her for an echocardiogram,” Jason told Bobbie as silent tears slid down Carly’s face. “And then thrombolytic treatment. I don’t—I don’t know what that is.”

Bobbie took a deep breath and explained. “They’re going to inject thrombolytic drugs into the site of the blockage to thin her blood and break up the clots. Either through an IV or a catheter. Um, knowing Monica, and the seriousness of the condition, they’ll probably go with the catheter, so they can try to also physically break it up.”

“How—is it dangerous?” Sonny asked.

“Not normally, but Elizabeth has some risk factors. She was already in poor health after her miscarriage and overdose, and then two rounds of cardiac arrest. They’re going to be worried about internal bleeding, and there’s always a small chance the clot could go somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” Jason repeated. “Like _where_?”

“It could develop into an aneurysm,” Bobbie admitted. She rubbed the side of her face. “But those are minimal risks.” She hesitated. “Elizabeth might also be at risk for organ damage.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sonny hissed something else under his breath. “Well, you make it clear to this hospital that money is no object. She saved my family—she gets whatever she needs. The bills go to me. My psychotic brother—Did they charge him with this yet?”

“I—” Jason blinked when he saw Nikolas over Bobbie shoulder, gesturing towards him. “I’ll be right back.”

He joined Nikolas back in the emergency room. “Hey. She’s—”

“I pulled her file. One of the small perks of my family basically owning this place. I was worried about Ric being her next of kin, legally speaking, and I wanted to contact Alexis if the hospital needed to file an injunction—”

“I hadn’t even—” Jason closed his eyes. He couldn’t seem to think straight. That was what he did every day in his job, but he couldn’t keep a thought in his head right now. “I hadn’t thought about that—”

“We’ve got a small problem. Spouses are legally the default next of kin, but Justus filed a restraining order and notice of separation. Elizabeth apparently started paperwork last summer to establish a power of attorney with control over her medical decisions, but she never completed the paperwork.” Nikolas hesitated. “She named you with her grandmother as a backup. But she was supposed to get you to sign it.”

“Last summer?” Jason frowned, shook his head. “She never asked—” Except there’d been that day she had told him she needed to talk to him. After she’d come home from the hospital and the gas explosion, he’d come over to see her because she’d asked him.

She’d been terrified, holding a knife when he arrived, and they’d been distracted by buying the baseball bat for better protection. Then he’d left when Carly called.

“So, what happens? Does Ric get control?” Jason demanded. “What can I do? How do I stop it—”

“I’ve called Alexis and asked for her opinion,” Nikolas said. “She said for the moment, Ric isn’t available to make any decisions, so they’ll perform whatever the doctor on call says is medically necessary. She said it’s a stop gap measure. We can use her paperwork from last year—all that’s left is your signature. Ric can always challenge it because the marriage happened in the interim—”

“Give me the paperwork,” Jason said immediately. “I’ll call Justus and ask him to prepare for that.” He closed his eyes, trying to think. He didn’t know the next step. Didn’t know where to go next. “We should find out what’s going on with Ric—”

“I gave your guard my number and asked him to give me the updates on the scene. I figured you were—” Nikolas swallowed hard. “Distracted here.

“Did they charge Ric with this? Are they—”

“Scott was already writing the indictment for the assault, Taggert said.  They’re adding kidnapping and attempted murder charges—and anything else related.” Nikolas shook his head. “I knew she didn’t look well—we should have—I don’t know what we _could_ have done. Elizabeth never did listen to anyone when she was sure she knew better.”

“Monica said her odds are at fifteen percent,” Jason managed. “It’s better than when she came in—”

“Monica’s the best in the state, if not the entire region,” Nikolas said after a long moment. “She knows what she’s doing. I’d trust her with my life.”

Jason looked down the hallway where Elizabeth had disappeared. “All we could think about was finding Carly. I _knew_ she wasn’t okay, and I left her there—”

“With a body guard and a member of the PCPD.” Nikolas put a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Short of throwing her on the plane to Emily or to me in London, what else were you supposed to do?”

It was over an hour before Monica came back through the doors, her eyes were exhausted but not devastated. Jason and Nikolas had been joined by Bobbie as Sonny and Carly had been taken upstairs to a private room where she’d be kept a day or two for observation.

Taggert had arrived, followed by Scott, who Bobbie had grudgingly allowed to sit next to her. “Elizabeth suffered a blood clot in her lungs as well as in her heart—”

Bobbie muffled a gasp at this second part of the news as Monica continued. “We were able to break up the major clots and stabilize her for now.” She hesitated. “I am upgrading her condition from critical to serious. She’s not out of the woods, but her response to the treatment so far has increased her odds to around thirty percent.”

Jason felt some of the pressure in his chest finally release as Scott hugged Bobbie, and Taggert’s shoulders slumped. “Is she awake?” Jason asked.

At this, Monica hesitated. “Elizabeth suffered a great deal of trauma today,” she said after a long moment. “And the blood clot caused a lack of oxygen—”

“Monica—”

“She’s fallen into a coma,” Monica admitted. “This is not uncommon, and it’s not necessarily—” She saw the looks on their faces. “I don’t know when she’ll wake up. With the cardiac arrest—it could be hours, days—”

“Or never,” Jason said roughly. “She could survive the embolism, and still—” He closed his eyes. “She might never come back from this.”

“I don’t expect that, Jason. I _really_ don’t. This is very common after what similar patients suffer. The body protects itself and I think that’s what is happening. We’ll move her to the ICU.” Monica touched his arm. “She made it this far, Jason. Give her some credit.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Jason said after a moment. He looked at his mother. “ICU usually restricts visitors to family, but—”

“Between Nikolas, myself, and your father,” Monica said with a brow, “I really doubt that’s going to be an issue. You’re now her power of attorney, Bobbie is the closest thing she has to a mother, and Nikolas was nearly her brother-in-law. That’s good enough for me. We’ll get her settled upstairs and you can see her then.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_Something's gotta give, something's gotta break_  
 _But all I do is give and all you do is take_  
 _Something's gotta change, but I know that it won't_  
 _No reason to stay, is a good reason to go_  
 _Is a good reason to go_  
\- Something’s Gotta Give, Camila Cabello

* * *

_Saturday, June 28, 2003_

**General Hospital: ICU**

An hour later, Elizabeth was moved to her own room in the ICU unit, and Jason went to sit at her bedside. Bobbie and Nikolas joined him, and they rotated to keep with the unit’s two at a time restriction.

Jason understood that comas could be healing—that this was likely Elizabeth’s body forcing her to stop, to take a break, and to rebuild her strength. But he also knew that she might not be completely unconscious, completely unaware.

He didn’t want her to wake up and be alone.

Around eight that evening, it was his turn to go for a coffee refill and Nikolas took his place. He knew the other man had spent most of the night on the plane from London, only to arrive in the middle of chaos, launch himself into Carly’s rescue, and then Elizabeth’s medical issues.

Nikolas seemed like a different person—not the immature man he’d quarreled with in the past, and Jason remembered now that he’d been in London with Laura Spencer after her breakdown. Maybe that accounted for the difference in attitude.

Jason took the elevator to the cafeteria where he intended to grab another round of coffees and something for Bobbie to eat. He hesitated when he saw Ned leaving the conference room, deep in discussion with another board member Jason didn’t recognize.

“Jason.” Ned’s steps slowed as they drew abreast of one another. “I—I heard about Elizabeth in the ICU. How is she?”

“In a coma,” Jason said, shortly. “She nearly died. Twice today.”

Ned looked away. “I can’t ever make it right,” he murmured. “I can’t ever go back—the signs were there, but I let myself ignore them. I let myself be swept away by hate and anger.” He locked eyes with his cousin. “Should I be looking over my shoulder for Faith?”

“No,” Jason answered. “She’s not an issue anymore.”

Ned exhaled slowly. “Thank you—I know you didn’t do it for me,” he said when Jason started to shake his head. “But my daughter is safe now. And that’s what matters. Grandmother is praying for Elizabeth, and…well, Grandfather sends his wishes. Emily is making arrangements to come home.”

Jason grimaced. “I forgot to call her—” he realized, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I should have—”

“I thought you had your hands full with finding Carly and…with Elizabeth. I ran into Monica and she asked me to call because she was busy with Elizabeth as well. She was trying to find a flight out tonight, but it probably won’t be until tomorrow—she had to deal with her program, but I’m sure she cares even less about that now.”

“I know Elizabeth will want to see her. Thanks.” Jason started past him. “I need to get coffee and food for Bobbie.” He dismissed Ned from his thoughts entirely and headed for the cafeteria.

**General Hospital: Hallway**

Sonny carefully closed Carly’s hospital room door as he joined Courtney in the hallway. He accepted his sister’s awkward embrace, then stepped back. “Michael is at the penthouse?”

He wasn’t really sure how to deal with Courtney—not after the last week. Courtney had called the police, proved how little she understood the way Sonny lived his life—and had actively proved to be a detriment. She wasn’t someone he could trust—and he struggled now to accept her as someone who belonged in his life at all.

Blood didn’t create that bond—his other half sibling had proved that thoroughly.

“Yes. We landed just after seven,” Courtney told him. She looked past him, through the small window into Carly’s room. “How is she?”

“All right, I guess. It’s hard to say. Everything is still settling in.” Sonny rubbed his hands over his face. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

“I know.” Courtney stepped closer to the door, sliding her fingers down the wooden surface. “It’s…it’s insane. No matter how much anyone searched, it wouldn’t have mattered unless they found the entrance. How _did_ they figure out it was a panic room?”

“A lot of things went right at the same time. We got lucky.” Sonny shifted. “Courtney—”

“It was a bad week. We—we were all scared. And I _know_ I made some mistakes, Sonny. I’m not oblivious. I know—I know I was wrong to make those calls, to let them in…I just—” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I wanted to help. I wanted to do something…it’s not like you or Jason would have let me.”

Sonny brought his fingers to his chin, stroked it lightly. “It’s not that things were said we didn’t mean. I…I don’t pretend I know what happened between you and Jason—”

“I threatened to move out.” Courtney avoided his eyes. “I was so jealous he was concerned about Elizabeth, but I guess it makes sense now. I mean, Ric was _really_ going after her. I saw…I saw on the news that he hurt her this morning—that he was already arrested before they found Carly—” Courtney shook her head. “It’s awful. I didn’t know how bad it was. I would have helped her—”

“The thing is, Courtney…” Sonny shifted. Was it his place to tell her what was going on? “I think…this week cleared a few things up.”

She frowned. “What—what do you mean? I don’t—” She pressed her lips together. “No. No. I was jealous, but Jason asked _me_ to marry him—” She held up her hand, wiggled her ring finger. “I know—I know we agreed to take a break—”

“Is that what you did?” Sonny asked gently. “A break? Or maybe…it was something more final?”

“Jason proposed,” Courtney repeated. “What are you trying to say—” She shook her head. “We argued, Sonny. And I know I made things worse—”

“Because Jason doesn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved,” her brother said quietly. “And you knew that. You figured you could live with it. And maybe Jason was going to try to, but…Elizabeth exists. And Jason almost lost her today.”

Her face crumpled. “He just—he just broke up with me _yesterday_ ,” she all but whimpered. “You’re telling me he moved on—”

“He never moved away from her to begin with, Courtney.” Sonny reached out, but she backed up. “You know that. You _had_ to see it. The rest of us did—”

“He _didn’t_ love her. He told me he didn’t love her—” Or…had he just not answered the question? She closed her eyes. And wasn’t her brother right? Hadn’t she _always_ known? “He’s down with her now, isn’t he?”

“He hasn’t been up to see Carly since she was moved from the ER,” Sonny admitted. “Elizabeth is in a coma—and well, no one can say what’s going to happen.”

“Oh.” Courtney folded her arms. “I didn’t realize it was that serious. I—I guess—” She swallowed. “I’ll go back to the penthouse. _Your_ penthouse,’ she said quickly. “Make sure Michael is settled. I’ll come back tomorrow. Hopefully Elizabeth…she’ll be better. And Carly will be up for visitors. I really…I am relieved she’s okay, Sonny. That’s all I wanted.”

“I know.” Sonny embraced his sister again. “Thank you for taking care of Michael this week. It meant a lot to me.”

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Shit was about to hit the fan.

Mayor Garrett Floyd stormed into Mac’s office around eight-thirty that evening. Trailing behind him was a sullen Scott Baldwin, who had likely already received his own chewing out. Mac rose from his desk, extended his hand, but Floyd ignored him.

“What we have here is a fuck up of massive proportions,” Floyd announced, folding his arms over his chest, his suit blazer discarded as soon as he entered the room. “I already told Baldwin I’m not interested in playing the blame game—”

“That’s not what it sounded like,” Scott muttered.

“I can recognize that I have not always sent the best of signals to your office. I’ve always prioritized organized crime when running for office. As did _you_ ,” Floyd said, shooting Scott a dark look. “And maybe I’ve been too focused on the election this year. But I think we can _all_ agree that we’ve had blinders.”

Mac hesitated, then nodded. If that’s the way Floyd wanted to play this, fine. But he’d be damned if Floyd was going to make his officers look bad. “To be fair, this investigation was done by the book. All leads were followed. We didn’t find Carly because we—”

“ _Didn’t_ follow every lead,” Floyd corrected. “The way I read the report is Morgan and Corinthos confirmed the existence of a panic room. If Lansing was the main suspect, why didn’t you tear his life apart? He wasn’t even brought in for official questioning until after he assaulted his wife.” He narrowed his eyes. “An assault for which this department can be blamed.”

“I’ve already begun the process to terminate Capelli,” Mac began but scowled when Floyd shook his head. “Why not? He was insubordinate—”

“He can spin it by suggesting your directive was unclear. He had your permission to leak, Mac. We fire him, we got a wrongful termination suit on our hands.”

Mac exhaled slowly. “I can understand that but if we don’t do something, Elizabeth Webber can also sue us. She’s got Justus Ward on her side, and you better believe he’ll recommend filing charges.” He met Floyd’s eyes, knew the mayor followed him. “We don’t want her digging into how this case unfolded.” Or any other cases. Floyd cleared his throat—and Mac knew he’d gotten the message.

“We can turn that around,” Scott said. “You read the rookie’s report, Rodriguez? She asked him to come inside the house, kept him in the loop. She trusted him. Now yeah, he should have called for backup, but he kept the trust of the victim _and_ was instrumental in Carly’s rescue. It would be good morale to reward him for it. Show the other rookies in his class the kind of behavior we’re looking for. Capelli takes a thirty-day rip—”

“It’s not going to change the beating we’re going to get in the papers tomorrow,” Floyd said. “But I see your point. We have three rookies, don’t we? They all worked the case. That’s good. They probably did the best work—”

“ _Taggert_ did good work on this case,” Scott murmured. “He was the arresting officer this morning. Took Elizabeth’s statement.” He met Mac’s eye. “But I know he’s upset with how she was treated. Has he spoken to you?”

“No, but I imagine he’s waiting to see how Elizabeth does. She’s still in a coma according to Monica.” Mac rubbed his eyes and took his seat. He gestured for both to take seats. “I have some thoughts on how we can get ahead of this. I talked to the beat reporter at the _Herald_ —they’re planning a long editorial tomorrow about the way this case was handled. They’re going to criticize its handling and assignment to Organized Crime.”

“It made sense at the time,” Scott murmured. “It dealt with Corinthos and Morgan. It’s been policy to refer any case dealing with them to OCU, but…maybe _that_ needs to be revised. Major Crimes _should_ be getting the focus. The resources. One of the reasons the Alcazar case got all messed up is…we saw the mafia connection, and we didn’t think about outside of it.”

“Taggert took the Lieutenant exam a while ago,” Mac told them. “I propose creating a position in the MCU. Put him in charge of the squad and assign more officers. Right now, it’s just Vinnie Esposito and Jack Beaudry with Lucky Spencer and Dante Falconieri as rookies. I’d keep them, but I’d shift Taggert over there and I think Rodriguez should go as well. Organized Crime should be more focused, more narrowly defined. I can pull a replacement for Taggert from somewhere else to take over that unit.”

Floyd hesitated. “Just moving around resources. Promote the one officer who did good work, take responsibility from the other—and if we assign the rookie—Rodriguez— to Taggert, that’s fast-tracking him. We can play that up. We recognized his attributes. It’s what we want to encourage—”

“And I think Beaudry and Esposito need the oversight. Vinnie’s new—” Mac paused. “Well, sort of. He joined the force back in ‘95 but moved to Buffalo in 2000. He’s only been back since December. And Beaudry has his twenty years in. They’re both…” Mac shifted. “Less dedicated…than I would like. Taggert could do good work there, and I think he’s ready for the change.”

“Suggest it to him.” Floyd got to his feet. “Keep a closer eye on your officers, Mac. Or I’ll be making other changes. Regardless of what happened in the past.” He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and strode from the office.

Luckily, Scott didn’t pursue the final cryptic remark, and merely rolled his eyes. “ _Every_ public official in this town has made their careers running against organized crime,” he complained. “It’s how we _get_ elected. We had one—okay, two if you count Alcazar—screw ups—”

“I really do think we need to adjust how we approach cases. It’s usually our way to blame Sonny and Jason for everything that goes wrong in Port Charles, but…” Mac shrugged. “They’re the best of a bad bunch, and when you think of the people who have vied for the territory over the last decade—it _could_ be worse.”

“What? Are you suggesting we start ignoring them?” Scott demanded. “Look, I’m willing to grant we went too hard at them this last year—”

“I’m suggesting that we put Capelli on gambling and smuggling. That’s what I want him worried about. But someone is _always_ going to want the waterfront, Scott. I live in the real world. The mafia is here to stay. Better the devils I know.” Mac shrugged. “I’m not saying we let it go—let’s just do a better job of picking our battles.” He was quiet for a moment. “What do you think about the case against Ric Lansing?”

“If the wife survives—rock solid.” Scott sighed. “But if she doesn’t…he’s going to blame it on her. He’s going to plead diminished capacity—he was just trying to help her—”

“Well, that’s _bullshit_ —”

“I know that, but it’d be nice if she’d pull through, so she can tell him to go to hell.” Scott got to his feet, then snapped his fingers. “That’s what I wanted to tell you—I just got out of court when Floyd showed up. Ric got an arraignment earlier than I thought.”

“We…hadn’t prepared the new charges, yet—Damn it.”

“Which means he was eligible for bail.” Scott grimaced. “And the judge didn’t go for cash bail. Ric was able to post bond—and I saw him taking paperwork to the civil division to petition for control of Elizabeth’s power of attorney. Apparently, she started paperwork to give it to Morgan, but—I don’t have the details. Ric’s challenging it now—” He looked at his watch. “As we speak. I’m going to head over and see how it turns out. I want to warn Monica if it becomes necessary.”

“Damn it. If he gets control of her care—no judge is going to give him that, are they?” Mac got to his feet, alarmed.

“After this last week, I’m not going to predict what the hell is going to happen next.”

**General Hospital: Carly’s Room**

Bobbie stepped out of Carly’s room, and stopped Sonny from taking her place. She closed the door.  “I’m worried,” she murmured. “Carly…she’s not herself.”

“Bobbie, she just spent the week locked up in a small room—” Sonny shook his head. “How is she _supposed_ to be acting—”

“She’s not herself,” Bobbie repeated. “I’ve _seen_ Carly after traumatic events. After losing her child. In post-partum. I know how my daughter generally reacts. This is…this isn’t it.”

Sonny hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“She’s…Courtney was here, and she carried most of the conversation. Carly just stared at her. One word, maybe two-word answers. She just seems…not to be there. I’m not saying that she should be bouncing back. Not within twenty-four hours, but I’m a nurse, Sonny. I know what I’m talking about.”

Sonny rubbed the back of his neck. “You think…something’s wrong.”

“I think we should keep our eyes open. Being locked in a small space, trapped without a lot of light.” Bobbie squinted at him. “You know what I’m talking about, Sonny. Carly’s…showing some of the signs of acute stress disorder, and if that’s not treated, it can end up developing into post-traumatic stress disorder. We don’t want that.”

“Okay. So…we keep our eyes open.” Sonny passed her, put his hand on the door knob. “How’s Elizabeth?” He looked at his watch. “It’s…been hours.”

“Five,” Bobbie murmured. “Not too terribly long in the grand scheme of things. She’s…being monitored. There are some more blood clots in her lungs that Monica is keeping her eye on. We’ll probably be sending her back into the cath lab in a few hours. Monica just…she’s being cautious.”

“Courtney came back,” Sonny told Bobbie. “I think that I convinced her to go home, to leave Jason be, but she has this idea that…it’s over now, and maybe things will go back to how they were.”

“I highly doubt that.” Bobbie shrugged. “At least for Jason. I don’t know. I think he turned a corner this last week. Even if it’s not how Elizabeth feels—I hope Courtney has the decency to stay away until we know if Elizabeth is even going to—” Her voice faltered.

“It’s not like my sister doesn’t…have a point,” Sonny said slowly. “Or that she doesn’t have a right to hope…they _were_ engaged. They might still be, for all I know. I’m not—I’m not judging Jason, Bobbie. I’ve always known how he felt about Elizabeth. It’s the reason I was against this from the beginning. Also, I don’t know if you noticed this—but my sister is an _idiot_.”

Bobbie laughed despite herself, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, I noticed. Still, this isn’t the time for Courtney to figure out her love life. Elizabeth could go into cardiac arrest at any time, Sonny—and this time—”

“She might not make it. She’s tough, Bobbie. She pulled through when it was at five percent. What is she up to now? Thirty-five? She’s a survivor. Just like you and me.” He pulled his mother-in-law into a hug. “Don’t count her out yet.”

**Luke’s: Bar**

Dante frowned when he saw Cruz sitting at the bar, and Lucky behind it. “Hey…I thought you guys were both on tonight.” He took a seat next to Cruz, and Lucky brought him a beer. “What changed? Did you get the same call I did?”

“From Taggert? Yeah.” Cruz sighed. “And they told me I didn’t have to go in tonight since I went above and beyond today.” He grimaced. “Mac told me they want to give me an award. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Things hit the fan today, my friends,” Lucky told them. “I heard the _Herald_ is going to chew out the entire PCPD tomorrow in a Sunday editorial. I’m surprised Mac still has a job—”

“I can’t believe _Capelli_ still has a job,” Dante muttered. “Turning an innocent woman into a pawn. Everyone knows he went too far, but gotta cover your ass—I swear, the second I hear someone else is hiring, I’m out of here—”

“That would be a shame.” They looked over to see Taggert with tired eyes joining them at the bar. He sat on the other side of Cruz. “How about a gin and tonic, Spencer?”

Lucky mixed him the drink and set it in front of him. “What’s going on, Detective?”

“Apparently…” Taggert leaned over, away from Cruz, digging into his back pocket and drew out a badge. “It’s Lieutenant Taggert now. I took the exam a while ago, and they decided that the officer who _didn’t_ feed Elizabeth to the wolves should get a promotion.” He stared at it for a long moment before exhaling. “You all did good work on the case.”

“I just sat in the car,” Dante said, shrugging. “Nothing to it.”

“You didn’t actively make the case worse, and in Port Charles, _that’s_ enough to be good.” Taggert sipped his drink. “I’ve been reassigned to take over Major Crimes. You both work for me, now, and Cruz, they’re assigning you to me as your training officer. They want to fast-track you.”

Cruz grimaced. “Politics,” he muttered. He tossed back his tequila shot and Lucky wordlessly refilled it.

“Look, you guys have been here a week, and I think that’s probably long enough for you to see the department is rotting from the inside out. I’m sorry to say it but we don’t do the job here.” Taggert paused. “But things _are_ going to change. I’m not working Organized Crime, and I’m glad. And I know—I don’t know you that well, Falconieri, but I’ve seen you work, Cruz. And Lucky…” He met the younger man’s eyes. “I arrested you once, so I know how quick you are. You got the makings of a good cop. I’d like to see you turn into something. All of you. I’d like you to do it _here_.”

“I just wanted to make a difference,” Cruz mumbled.  “I don’t think it can be done here.”

“After this case, I get that.” Taggert put a twenty down on the bar. “But I hope you give me a chance to do something better.”

**General Hospital: ICU**

Monica gestured for Jason and Nikolas to join her in the hallway. With some hesitation because Bobbie hadn’t returned from visiting Carly, they did so, though Jason positioned himself so he could see Elizabeth through the clear walls of the room.

“I just got a call from Scott Baldwin,” Monica said with some regret. “Ric made bail before they were able to charge him under the new indictment. They’re pulling that paperwork together, but they thought they had more time—”

“He’s out?” Nikolas demanded. “Security should keep him away—”

“I wish that were true.” Monica bit her lip, looked at Jason. “As soon as Ric posted bond, he had a lawyer file an injunction against you, demanding power of attorney be turned over to him. I guess Justus didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“He can’t do that—he has no standing,” Nikolas said. “Elizabeth has every right to choose who ever she wants—even if the paperwork was a year old, all it needed was Jason’s signature—”

“He won, didn’t he?” Jason said, cutting off Nikolas’s rant. “ _That’s_ why you’re here. To warn us that Ric is taking over her case.” He swallowed hard. “Monica—”

“Listen to me—I already called Alexis—”

“She thought this might happen. We met about it earlier,” Nikolas said. “She’s prepared to file—” He looked over as Justus stepped off the elevator, exhaustion lining his face as well. “That can’t be good.”

“I came as soon as we got out of court. I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you. It happened fast. I don’t know who he paid or _what_ strings got pulled—” Justus grimaced. “I’m already filing an appeal—I called Alexis, Nikolas. She’s filing an amicus brief on behalf of the hospital. But—”

“The courts are closed. Even for emergencies.” Jason closed his eyes. “What can he do to screw up her recovery, Monica?”

“Well, I’m scheduled to take Elizabeth into the cath lab in another hour to break up more of the clots. I could try a less aggressive treatment, keep her on the medication. But—”

“We agreed that blood thinners would be riskier—that the risk of internal bleeding—” Jason shook his head. “And a clot—”

“But it’s an option Ric could allow, and no one is going to be able touch him on it,” Monica cut in. “I’ll do what I can to stress the better the option—but that’s something he could get away with. He could also try to transfer her to another hospital—”

“Where I don’t have any family and Nikolas doesn’t basically own it.”

Nikolas scowled. “Give me an hour and I’ll have controlling stock in any hospital he tries. This is complete _bullshit_ , Justus. Elizabeth specifically—”

“Which is why when I get into court tomorrow morning, I’ll win. The hospital has documented her case, there’s report of the abuse, we have Carly’s statement—I don’t understand how he won, and if I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Can you take her into the lab now?” Jason asked, even though he already knew the answer. If it could have been done already—it would have been.

“I might not even be able to take her in an hour. I need her blood pressure to stabilize. She could code on the table and if she goes into arrest again, that’s it. That’s the ball game. It would be a miracle to get her back, and I think we’ve exhausted our share of them.”

“We have to wait.” Jason went back to the doorway, took in Elizabeth’s still figure beneath the white hospital blankets. “What was the judge’s reason?” he asked quietly. Because he knew there was more.

“What does it matter—” Nikolas began.

“It was a family court judge who tends to favor the father over the mother, and frowns on adultery in divorce cases,” Justus said. “He was on the court when I lived here a few years ago. I remember Dara complaining about him. He suggested that Elizabeth had been seduced by a gangster and wasn’t in her right mind last year—that you were taking advantage of her after the miscarriage. That the court had a responsibility to respect the sanctity of marriage.”

Jason would deal with the judge later for that but nodded. It was always better to know what he was up against. “That’s what Ric is going to use against her all the way. In the restraining order. The divorce. The trial. He’s going to use me like a weapon.”

“She’ll hate that.” Nikolas sighed. “I’m going to call Alexis, start finding out who I know in the appeals court and how to buy them.”

“I didn’t hear any of that,” Justus said evenly. “I’ll go to work on my brief. Jase…I’ll be in touch.” He put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and then followed Nikolas to the bank of elevators.

“You should sit with her while you can,” Monica murmured. Her hand fluttered out as if she wanted to touch his arm, but it fell back to her side. “I’ll warn you when Ric is on his way. His first…he’ll probably bar you from the room.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that.” Jason moved through the open door and resumed his seat at Elizabeth’s side. He took her pale hand between his larger ones. They’d removed her wedding and engagement rings for her procedures and never put them back on.

“It’s just for a few hours,” he told her. “I’m sorry. We thought we had protected ourselves, but—” He shook his head.  He should have called in favors, had Ric killed in lock-up. He’d thought about it, but it was too hot right now and the last thing he wanted was to be arrested and put in jail.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He pushed tendrils of her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. Her face remained smooth, untroubled, and he hoped that she wouldn’t wake up until they’d won their case and Ric was gone.

If it was the last thing he did in this world, he would make Ric Lansing sorry he’d ever been born and remove the stain of his existence from all their lives.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_I hope you're not intending_  
 _To be so condescending_  
 _It's as much as I can take_  
 _And you're so independent_  
 _You just refuse to bend_  
 _So I keep bending till I break_  
\- Right Here, Staind

* * *

_Sunday, June 29, 2003_

**General Hospital: Conference Room**

Monica kept her features even as Ric strode into the room around one in the morning. The younger man took in the room’s occupants and scowled. “Why are they here?”

“Representing my client’s interests,” Justus said with a cold smile. “In eight hours, we’ll be back in a court room, Lansing, and you don’t have a _prayer_ to keep control of Elizabeth’s medical care.”

“We’ll see.” Ric took his seat, shooting Alexis a dark look. “And I suppose you’re here because of the hospital.”

“I’ll be filing an amicus brief on behalf of the hospital demanding Elizabeth’s rights be respected.” Alexis arched a brow. “You’re wasting time.”

“Fine. Bring me up to date on my wife’s case.”

“Elizabeth suffered a pulmonary embolism around two this afternoon. She was quickly diagnosed due to information received at the scene regarding birth control pills—”

“There is no proof birth control pills—”

Alexis, as if she’d known exactly what Ric would say, slid a piece of paper across the table. “Lab results. Elizabeth’s estrogen levels were through the roof. By nine A.M., I will have three experts from the best hospitals in the country to testify that those estrogen levels are artificially induced, and that it is a leading cause of pulmonary embolisms in women of Elizabeth’s age with no other risk factors.”

Ric scowled. “Go on,” he told Monica, but his expression seemed less smug.

“Elizabeth went into cardiac arrest at 2:06 P.M, and then again at 2:18 P.M. Paramedics were able to stabilize her, and she arrived here at General Hospital at 2:24 PM.” Monica tapped her pen. “At which time, we took her for an echocardiogram and confirmed the embolism as well as a heart attack brought on a by blood clot to the heart.”

Some of the color had drained from Ric’s face. “She…a heart attack?”

“Blood clots are tricky bastards,” Justus murmured, and then Alexis kicked him.

“We took her to the catheter lab where we administered a combination of thrombolytic treatment as well as a physical breakup of the clots. We were able to eliminate most of them, but her pressure began to drop, and we had to pull back.”

“And her condition now?” Ric asked, the smug tone having dissipated.

“We upgraded her from critical to serious at 4:46 PM,” Monica continued. “By then, it was clear Elizabeth had fallen into a coma—not uncommon in heart attack and cardiac arrest patients. There was, of course, some oxygen deprivation to the brain. We don’t believe it was enough to compromise her, but it can contribute to a coma state.” She rubbed her eyes. “I had hoped to take her back to the cath lab around midnight to continue breaking up the clots—”

“ _You_ instructed the hospital not to continue any other treatment until you arrived.” Alexis offered a sour smile. “That was _four_ hours ago.”

“I have…many things on my plate right now, including finding representation for court tomorrow,” Ric said, his teeth clenched. “What are the treatment options?”

“At the moment, we are treating Elizabeth with thrombolytic medications—blood thinners—with the intention to return to the cath lab and break up the last of the clots. This is the fastest and most effective course of treatment,” Monica said, briskly.

“And…the risks of putting her through another round in the cath lab?” Ric asked. “I want the full picture.”

Of course he did. Smarmy bastard. “Infection is always a risk. There is also the possibility that bleeding could happen somewhere else in the body—”

“Like where? The brain?”

“Yes,” Monica admitted. “But we are monitoring very carefully, and the risks are, I believe, necessary.”

“And the risks of keeping Elizabeth on the blood thinners without the catheter treatment?”

“Believe it or not, the risks are the same. Thinning the blood increases the chance that bleeding will occur in other areas, particularly in the brain. The benefit of the catheter treatment is that it’s faster. And Elizabeth will be able to start recovery sooner.”

“I understand the risks are similar,” Ric said evenly. “Are the _rates_ of those risks occurring similar? Do they happen more with catheter—”

“This is ridiculous,” Alexis murmured. “The doctor is giving you the most effective treatment—”

“She’s giving me the treatment plan she went over with _her_ son who is my wife’s lover. I hardly think I should take their word for it without questioning it. You’re lucky I’m not requesting another doctor.”

Monica fought the urge to bare her teeth and growl at the moron. “The rates are comparable, but _I_ believe it’s riskier to wait. Elizabeth has already had one clot travel to her lungs. I fear the next one might go to her brain—it’s a miracle she’s survived this long. I can tell you she will _not_ survive a ruptured aneurysm—”

“But you’re monitoring her,” Ric said. “I think it might be more stressful for my wife to go back into a procedure without giving medication the time to work.” He got to his feet, slid his hand down his gray polo shirt. “We’ll revisit this in the morning. _After_ I win my case.”

“I have to strongly encourage you to reconsider—”

“Is she even stable enough for the cath lab?” Ric asked, lifting his brows. “If she had been, you would have done it already—”

“Elizabeth’s blood pressure and other vitals have stabilized. They were stable at eleven, but we couldn’t do anything. Ric—”

“I haven’t given you permission to use my first name.” Ric stared at her coolly. “You have my directive. I also request that access to my wife’s room be limited to just me. I _don’t_ want to find anyone else in there.”

He nodded to them, then left.

“He’s not really interested in trying to kill her,” Alexis said with a tap to her chin. “If he was, then there are things he could have done to destabilize her. Demand another doctor, demand a transfer—change her treatment, but he didn’t do that.”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t see that his case is better off if Elizabeth never wakes up?” Justus demanded, leaning forward. “You’re kidding me—”

“I’m telling you what I just heard. He was legitimately surprised by the seriousness of her condition—by the fact that we _can_ prove birth control did this— _and_ that it led to a heart attack. He didn’t know the side effects would be this bad. And he went with a treatment that a lot of people might have given the risks.”

Monica exhaled slowly. “He wanted to know her condition. How serious it is.”

“He’s working on his defense. He’s about to be arraigned on charges of kidnapping and attempted murder. How he frames it during the arraignment tomorrow—” Alexis shrugged. “I think if Jason had decided to go with the medication only treatment, Ric would have gone for the opposite. You heard him. He didn’t want the treatment you and _Jason_ came up with.”

“What does this mean about the hearing tomorrow? Don’t tell me you’re not going to be able to lift the injunction and give Jason back control—” Monica leaned forward.

Justus smirked. “Oh, I’ll win. Elizabeth has the right to dictate her own medical care. She never destroyed the paperwork. It only required Jason’s signature in front of a notary. And no one can prove an affair. Even if they could, it’s not relevant.”

“And my amicus brief is going to remind the court why this hearing exists. Hopefully, they’ll have officially charged him by then—”

“Baldwin said they’d hoped to have the charges ready by seven.” Monica sighed. “I should get some sleep while I can—after I call down to ICU and give them Ric’s directive.”

“You’re not going to warn Jason that Ric is here?” Alexis said. She stifled a yawn as she got to her feet. “I would have thought—”

“I had Jason told as soon as Ric entered the building.” Monica pressed her lips together. “It’s insanity. I could be giving Elizabeth relief right now, making sure she’s out of danger—”

“We have to work with the situation we’re given. If Elizabeth makes it through the night—we’ll be able to call from the court house. You can have her in the cath lab as soon as you get the word.” Justus started to gather his paperwork.

“If Elizabeth makes it through the night,” Monica said, darkly.

**General Hospital: Hospital Administrator Suite**

It was nearly six-thirty in the morning when Lucky found his brother at the hospital, deep in conference with Jason. Both men looked equally exhausted, their eyes rimmed with red and almost blood shot.

They looked up at Lucky’s arrival, and Nikolas frowned, taking in Lucky’s uniform. “You’re not on duty, are you?”

“I got called in to assist with an imminent arrest.”  Lucky frowned at them. “Have _either_ of you slept—”

“No. I’m trying to make sure that Alexis has all the paperwork the hospital needs to petition—we’re not banking on the family court to lift the injunction on Jason—” Nikolas scowled. “The same judge is hearing the petition. Alexis wants to be ready to file for an immediate injunction against Ric, and allow for _her_ act as guardian.”

“Guardian —” Lucky narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that for kids?”

“Typically, but in this case,Alexis is going to argue that someone without a stake should be in charge—if the family court doesn’t want to give the control to a man suspected of, apparently, the awful crime of having an affair with another consenting adult, then he can’t leave it with someone who is also accused of trying—” Nikolas stifled a yawn. “Trying to kill her.”

“Uh huh,” Lucky said, with a squint. “Is adultery against the law in New York? Why would that even be relevant—”

“The judge cited statutes—it’s apparently a class B misdemeanor.” Nikolas snorted.

“Does anyone even care that it’s _not_ true?” Jason demanded with a low growl. “We were not—”

“Do we really want to travel that road? Anyway, if the judge denies a guardian appointed by the hospital, then Bobbie is having Scott file a petition for her—”

“And Bobbie has standing?” Lucky asked, skeptically.

“Listed as an emergency contact.” Nikolas rubbed his eyes. “Wait. Imminent arrest?”

“Yeah. Baldwin is filing the arrest warrant with the courts at seven—he can’t do it any earlier. He wanted me to be here so we can arrest Ric before he gets word and has a chance to flee.”

“Did you already go by the ICU?” Jason asked hesitantly, his eyes reluctantly meeting Lucky’s. “I had—I had to leave around one. And I haven’t—” He swallowed. “Nikolas didn’t access her files. We didn’t want anything to mess up our chances in court.”

“Elizabeth is still stable, and he’s there with her,” Lucky admitted. “I ran into Monica, and she said that you can go up as soon as we arrest him. She’s not obligated to follow his orders if he’s not here to annoy her.” He looked at his watch. “This is all _bullshit_. Fucking lawyers. How can anyone think the man charged with domestic abuse should be in charge of that woman’s care? This goddamn city. That judge is off his rocker.”

Nikolas eyed Jason who stared back at him blandly. “Somehow, I doubt we’re going to have to worry about the judge today. Did you…” He slid his eyes over to Lucky. “Are you _technically_ on duty yet?”

“I don’t hit the clock until Baldwin calls,” Lucky said, taking a seat. “So, until then, in _this_ specific case, I’m Luke Spencer’s son.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about filing any other petitions,” Jason said evenly. “I ran an errand when I left the hospital.” He reached for his cup of coffee.

“Then why…” Lucky gestured to the paperwork. “You stayed up all night—”

“Because I don’t know what connections Ric has,” Jason admitted. “I know what’s supposed to happen, but if there’s even the slightest risk—”

“Got it.” Lucky studied the other man. Objectively, he knew there had been bad blood between them. He had played the part long enough last year with Sarah, Elizabeth, and then the kidnapping—but somewhere along the line, since his mother’s breakdown, he’d stopped trying to play the role of Lucky Spencer…and just be who he was.

And who he was…remembered Jason Morgan more as the guy who’d helped him out when he’d needed a job and looked out for him.

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it. “Spencer.”

_“This fucking system is a piece of shit, and I am going to **burn** it to the ground—” Scott seethed. “I filed the paperwork for the charges, and do you know what the piece of shit judge said?”_

“Uh—”

_“He said that Ric Lansing was a respected member of the community and had business before the court in a few hours. We could wait until then to take him into custody and allow him to surrender on his recognizance. This goddamn—why are **we** the ones getting roasted in the papers? I’m going to leak the shit out of this—” Then the call hung up without warning as Scott apparently went to go kill someone._

“Lucky, is that the arrest—” Nikolas sighed when he saw Lucky put the phone down. “What happened?”

“The charges got filed, but the judge wouldn’t sign the arrest warrant. Apparently, since Ric is going to be in court later today, they’re going to give him a chance to surrender.” Lucky exhaled slowly. “I—I don’t _understand_. He’s being charged with kidnapping and attempted murder. He’s already accused of domestic violence. What the hell is going on?”

“And _this_ is why we killed ourselves with paperwork. I can’t depend on the system, so I have to be ready for all scenarios—” Nikolas began.

“What if _none_ of it works?” Lucky asked. He looked at Jason, then at his brother. “What happens then? I can’t—this is Mom all over again, Nikolas. This is why I wanted to—” He pulled the badge from his shirt and stared at it. “I wanted to stop it from happening to another family, thenthe PCPD practically put Elizabeth in that hospital bed.”

Nikolas put his head in his hands. “Watching Mom get railroaded, badgered, and harassed until her mind broke with the pressure—I don’t know if _I_ could forgive Scott Baldwin or the PCPD enough to work for them.”

Lucky sighed. “Yeah, I get that. I just—Baldwin made it sound like it was something I couldn’t do.” His mouth curved into a half smile. “I never could turn down a dare.”

He pinned his badge back to his shirt. “If all the petitions fail, then what’s the plan?” he asked.

“I don’t have one. One of these has to work,” Nikolas said. He looked to Jason who just shook his head.  Whatever choices were left, Jason wasn’t willing to share them with a cop—even one who _was_ Luke Spencer’s son.

“I better go check in and see what’s going on.” Lucky got to his feet. “Keep me posted.”

When Lucky had left, Nikolas lifted his brows at Jason. “What are you thinking?”

“If the judge doesn’t give the power of attorney to me, Bobbie, or the hospital, then Ric is going to stop being a problem, and to hell with it,” Jason muttered. “They’ll come at me, I might end up in jail. But Elizabeth will never have to look at him again. _That’s_ the promise I made her. He’s not going to be in control of her. Not ever again.”

“I’m surprised he’s still breathing,” Nikolas admitted. “I would have thought this kind of thing was in your wheelhouse. You could do it without a trace.”

“I could,” Jason admitted. “But it’s not just me. If I didn’t get away with it, if I ended up in jail, Elizabeth would blame herself. And there’s Sonny to think about. It puts pressure on him with the cops, and he barely got through Carly’s kidnapping.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “But I can’t take the chance that he could have control over her when it’s the _last_ thing she wanted.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think Ric could buy a few judges, but I highly doubt anyone is going to go against you,” Nikolas told him. “Ric’s going away for this. Everyone knows it. Going against you is going against Sonny. And…I made a few calls of my own. We’ll be prepared for everything, but I doubt the legal system in this city is willing to go to war against you and the Cassadines.”

He got to his feet. “I’m going to check in with the ICU and then I’m going to grab some sleep before court. We’ve done what we can, Jason. There’s nothing left to do.”

**General Hospital: Carly’s Room**

Carly blinked at her husband as his mouth moved and sounds came out. She couldn’t make herself follow him. Couldn’t quite seem to focus.

She was…dressed to leave—she was being released at eight, and Sonny—was—he was trying to tell her something but her mind kept drifting.

She closed her eyes, turned her head away, and let herself drift again.

As Carly fell asleep, Sonny closed his mouth and just stared at his wife. In his entire memory, Carly had never just…gone to sleep in the middle of a conversation.

Not that it had been an actual conversation. He’d been reluctantly telling her all the things that had happened over night—Ric getting released, not being arrested, ending up with control of Elizabeth’s care—he’d told her how excited Michael was to see her. And she’d just stared at him.

Maybe Bobbie was right, and there was something more that they would need to do—something more than time or rest.

Sonny sighed and left to find a doctor. Maybe Carly wasn’t ready to leave the hospital.

**Port Charles Courthouse: Family Court Division, Room C**

Scott Baldwin tapped a pen against his notepad and studied the proceedings as they unfolded. His interaction with Ric Lansing had been limited to scattered court appearances but none in the last six months. In fact, Ric’s legal practice in Port Charles had never really launched, and the man now accused of domestic abuse, kidnapping, and attempted murder hadn’t been in a court room in months.

Scott had  been livid upon learning that the criminal court had rejected an arrest warrant based on Ric’s appearance in court this morning. It was beyond Scott’s legal experience for a man to be accused of such crimes to not immediately be taken into custody.

Why was Lansing being given a chance to surrender himself? He’d been a resident of the city less than a year and his crimes were against his own wife, a member of one of Port Charles’s finest families.

And was this a sign of things to come? Scott was prepared to file an emergency petition on Bobbie’s behalf if neither the hospital nor Jason Morgan was able to wrest power of attorney back from Ric Lansing this morning, but Scott hoped it wouldn’t go that far. The precedent was clear—power of attorney belonged to the person granting it. Spouses were in charge only if nothing else existed.

And Scott knew that Justus was prepared to argue to the State Supreme Court if he needed to—if Elizabeth survived that long. Scott put a hand over Bobbie’s as she kept cracking her knuckles. “You’re driving me nuts. Relax.”

“Relax,” Bobbie muttered. “I should be with my daughter. I should be with Elizabeth, but no, I have to be _here_ because this city is full of criminals—”

She only subsided when the judge called the room to order. As Ric came in, he cast a nervous glance at Jason Morgan. and Scott was amused to see Ric’s eyes narrow in confusion when he met Scott’s eyes in the gallery.

“Your Honor, my client is petitioning to have the injunction lifted against his power of attorney in the case of Elizabeth Webber—”

“Elizabeth Lansing,” Ric corrected smoothly as he got to his feet and shot Justus a smug smile. “She’s married now—”

“And never filed any name change so her legal name remains Webber,” Justus shot back just as cheerfully. “Don’t interrupt me.”

“Counsel.” The judge lifted a bushy eyebrow at them. “Mr. Ward, carry on.”

“On July 23, 2002, Elizabeth Webber began paperwork to name Jason Morgan as her durable power of attorney, giving him the final say in any decisions on her behalf. That paperwork was completed and signed yesterday. Pursuant to Statute 5-1501B, she has the right to name any person she so chooses.”

“Your Honor, it is generally accepted that the next of kin has the final say,” Ric began.

“Unless there is superseding paperwork. Which there is.” Justus held up the form. “In fact, her paperwork has a list of people who can make those decisions if Jason Morgan is unable or unwilling. If the court finds that Jason Morgan is not a suitable person, Miss Webber indicated that Barbara Jean Spencer can make those decisions. If not Miss Spencer, then Emily Quartermaine. If Miss Quartermaine is not available, Nikolas Cassadine I think this list goes down to the janitor at General Hospital—”

“Your Honor, my wife—”

“Has also filed notice of legal separation from Richard Lansing, alleging cruel and inhumane treatment. He is the defendant in a domestic abuse case as well as a newly brought charge of attempted murder—”

“ _Alleged_ —”

“It is irresponsible to allow medical care for Elizabeth Webber to remain with her estranged husband,” Justus continued. “And I _can_ promise you that if she does not survive the injuries inflicted on her by her husband, I have any number of clients who intend to file a wrongful death suit against him, the city—”

The judge held up his hand and looked to Ric. “Counsel, why should I discard legal precedent and allow your rights as the spouse to supersede the wishes of your wife?”

“That paperwork was begun by my wife before we met and married. A year ago,” Ric lifted his chin. “They dug it out yesterday and had Jason Morgan sign it. Also, he is a suspected criminal, and I intend to ask the PCPD to charge him under Penal Law 255.17. He may have a vested interest in my wife not surviving either—”

“Penal Law…” The judge trailed off. “Are you suggesting that you intend to press charges against this man for adultery? And…that he might allow Elizabeth Webber to die so he can avoid thirty days in jail?”

Ric hesitated. It was clearly the only leg on which he had to stand, and Scott rolled his eyes. He rose to his feet. “Your Honor.”

“DA Baldwin.” The judge sat back. “I imagine you’re here to tell me that Jason Morgan isn’t going to be facing any such charges—”

“The District Attorney’s office has no pending investigation against Jason Morgan in any respect. Not for this scurrilous charge of adultery—I’d almost like to see you prove it, Lansing—or on any _other_ charge. Nor do I imagine that situation to change at any point. Unlike Mr. Lansing who is about to be remanded into custody, Mr. Morgan is free to make Elizabeth Webber his number one priority.”

“Thank you, DA Baldwin. You may take your seat.”

As Scott sat down, he was aware of Bobbie’s wide eyes. He looked at her and wagged a finger. “Don’t you _ever_ say I never did anything for you.”

“Is that everything?” the judge asked. When Justus and Ric nodded, he continued, “I have both your briefs. I will consider them and render my decision in an hour.”

“Your Honor,” Justus got to his feet. “This is an emergency—I have notes from Dr. Quartermaine—”

“Which is why you’ll get my decision in an hour. I can understand if Mr. Lansing and Mr. Morgan would prefer to await my decision at the hospital.”

“Ah, Your Honor.” Scott got to his feet. He gestured to Lucky Spencer behind him. “Officer Spencer is here to take Ric Lansing into custody—’

“And he can do that at General Hospital, Mr. Baldwin. _You_ don’t run my court room. The arrest warrant is held pending the outcome of this hearing.”

“Pending…” Scott stared at the judge. “Are you whacked in the head? If you give him control of Elizabeth Webber’s case, he has _no_ vested interest in her survival. He can’t take care of her from the jail cell unless you’re telling me you’re going to quash the warrant. What the ever loving—”

“I suggest you leave now, Mr. Baldwin, before I hold you in contempt.”

“Hold _me_ in contempt? Listen, Bozo—”

“Scott,” Bobbie hissed as Justus made a slicing gesture across his neck. _Cut it out!_ his eyes seemed to scream.

“You give Elizabeth’s care to this man, then you might as well sign her death warrant. Where the _hell_ is the justice—”

“Officer Spencer, it looks like you’ll be able to take someone into custody after all,” the judge said dryly as he got to his feet. “Please place DA Baldwin under arrest for contempt of court.”

Hell. So much for keeping his cool. Scott turned to Lucky who tried like hell to fight his smirk. Little bastard hated him with good reason. “No cuffs necessary,” he told the rookie. “I’ll go quietly.”

“I’ll bail you out—” Bobbie began.

“Call my dad or Gail,” Scott said with a shake of his head. “You’re needed here.” He followed Lucky out of the courtroom.

Jason eyed Ric across the room gathering his paperwork. “I’m going back to the hospital. Did—did Baldwin’s outburst hurt us?”

“The judge hadn’t seen Elizabeth’s paperwork in detail. The fact is even if he doesn’t like _you_ , Elizabeth gave him other choices. That should take care of his primary issue. Bobbie is next in line, which means we don’t need Baldwin anyway.”

“He has to know he’ll be overturned if he doesn’t give her care to someone else,” Bobbie hissed, sending a scathing glare at Lansing. “But I guess the damage will be done.”

“Go back to the hospital, Jason,” Justus told Jason. “Bobbie and I will wait here for the outcome. And you want to be there before Ric leaves here.”

It took everything inside Jason to walk past Ric at the other table and not pound the life out of him. That day would come, but first—first he couldn’t do _anything_ that would put Elizabeth in danger.

**General Hospital: ICU**

When Jason got back to the hospital twenty minutes later, his mother was there to give him an update. Though it went against privacy laws, Monica was a Quartermaine and a mother just as much as she was a doctor, and sometimes her conscience had to come first.

“Elizabeth has developed another clot in her lungs,” Monica said as Jason joined her at the hub near Elizabeth’s room. Behind her, other nurses and doctors worked quietly. “She’s stable enough for the cath lab but I don’t have permission to take her. Ric has told me it’s medication only.”

Jason hissed. “The judge is delivering a decision in another—” He looked at the clock behind Monica on the computer. “Forty minutes. Maybe less.” He obviously hadn’t made it _clear_ to the judge the night before. There was no guilt or regret in the thought—if Elizabeth died because this judge had kept Jason from her—because he had taken Ric’s side—then he’d forfeited his own life.

End of story.

“This can’t stand. I can make her better, I can save her life, but I am being held back.” Monica clenched her teeth. “I should have done more. I should have checked on her last week. I could have seen the signs—”

“ _I_ saw the signs,” Jason said quietly. “ _She_ knew something was wrong. We just thought it was withdrawal. It wasn’t clear until today that—”

“I know, but I wish—” Monica pressed a hand to her head. “Emily is flying out tonight. She had to make arrangements with her program and get a flight—she’ll never forgive herself for going back last week.”

“I told her to go, Monica.” Jason saw the elevator doors slide open and grimaced as he saw his ex-fiancée walk towards them. “Great.”

“Oh.” Monica narrowed her eyes. “I _really_ don’t like her.”

“Yeah, I noticed that before last week.” Jason left his mother behind and cut Courtney off before she got to Elizabeth’s room. She blinked as if she hadn’t seen him there.

“Oh.” She wrapped her hand around the strap over her shoulder, clutching it tightly. “I didn’t see you there. I was, um, coming to see you.”

He gestured for her to go towards the small waiting area with the couches. “Carly get home okay?”

“No, um, that’s why—” Courtney bit her lip. “Sonny said he didn’t want to bother you because of what’s—” She shifted. “They’re keeping her another few days. Sonny said they’re bringing in a shrink.”

“A shrink—” Jason shook his head. “Why? What happened?” He should have checked on Carly after he’d been barred from Elizabeth’s room, but it just—it hadn’t occurred to him. Carly had been in his waking thoughts every moment for the last week, and knowing she was safe a few floors below them had been enough apparently to dismiss her as an immediate concern.

“Kevin Collins told us it’s acute stress disorder, and if they don’t treat it, it could turn into post-traumatic stress. I guess that’s really bad, and they want to prevent it. Um…” She licked her lips. “Are you coming down? I mean…Elizabeth is okay for now, why can’t you come see Carly—”

“I haven’t heard back from the judge. As soon as I get the injunction lifted, I have to give Monica new orders—” Jason shook his head. “I’ll check in as soon as I can, but I have to be here in case Ric starts something—”

“I don’t get this,” Courtney snapped. She lunged to her feet, the vulnerability and uncertainty he’d seen in her expression fading into anger. “We were going to get married a week ago. You _left_ her, Jason. You came to me. And now that she needs you—now that _she’s_ a goddamn damsel in distress—”

“I don’t have time for this,” Jason said, and he turned away, dismissing her. Courtney grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his forearm and he grimaced. “Courtney—”

“How _dare_ you look at me like I’m nothing,” Courtney hissed. “How dare you treat me like I’m trash you forgot to get rid of. You asked me to _marry_ you. You told me you didn’t love her. You made me feel important, and now I don’t mean anything? What is _wrong_ with you? Are you as damaged as everyone says you are?”

At that, something inside Jason shut down. He looked down at his arm and pried her fingers from it, flinging it back. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I apologized for that two days ago. I broke up with you then. I get that you’re hurt. But if you want to be blunt with you, Courtney, I will be. I don’t love you. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I knew before Carly got kidnapped that it was a mistake. And any future we had ended the minute you called the PCPD and let them search the penthouses. You knew that.”

“Jason—I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it—” Her face was ashen as she stumbled back. “You don’t—you’re worried about Elizabeth—”

“Go be with Sonny and Carly,” Jason continued, but then the elevator opened again, and Ric stepped out. On his heels was an officer Jason hadn’t seen before.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ric demanded, his face scrunching up in anger. He turned to Monica who was still at the hub. “I barred him from the ICU—”

“You barred him from Elizabeth’s room,” Monica said dryly. “You don’t have the right to bar him from the entire ward.”

“Bullshit, ICU is only for family,” Ric shot back.

“And he’s my son,” Monica said with a bit of smugness that Jason almost enjoyed. “He’s visiting me.”

“Bullshit,” Ric repeated. He glared as Jason returned to his mother side, leaving Courtney without a second glance. “He doesn’t even like you.”

“We’re Quartermaines,” Monica returned with a lift of her brow. “We never _like_ each other. That’s not how it works.”

“Look, Lansing, it’s not worth it. You‘re here to wait for the judge’s decision, but I remind you you’re in _my_ custody,” the cop said, putting a hand on Ric’s arm. Ric shrugged him off. “You’re causing a scene.”

Ric opened his mouth to protest—but then the area was filled with the sound of beeping and Jason turned, dreading the location. The alarms were screaming in Elizabeth’s room.

Monica abandoned them all and rushed towards the room, followed by another doctor and several nurses. “She’s in tachycardia,” she announced as she took in the screen. “Get the crash cart!”

“What’s going on?” Jason demanded, having followed his mother, with Ric hot on his heels, the cop trotting behind them both.

“Her heart is racing.” Monica studied the monitors. “Give her 300 mg of Amiodarone,” she ordered the nurse who rushed to inject the medication into Elizabeth’s IV.

“What is that?” Ric demanded. “I haven’t okayed that. You have to let me—”

“It’s not working,” the doctor said as Elizabeth’s heart beat continued to go wild. “Monica—”

“Push another 150mg.She’s going to go into cardiac arrest if this clot—Damn it—” She looked at Ric. “I need to get her into the cath lab ASAP.”

“Is _that_ just as risky?” Ric demanded.

“This clot goes to her heart and we won’t have to argue anymore because she’ll be _dead_ ,” Monica snapped.

“Not if the treatment is going—”

And Ric stopped talking because Jason had had enough. He punched the asshole so hard that he flew back into the cop and then slumped to the floor.

Jason knew exactly how to aim his fist in order to cause unconsciousness.

Monica stared at the prone man for a moment. “Well, that’s one way to deal with it. All right, in the absence of anyone telling me something else, let’s go. We’ll take her now.”

Monica and the team quickly readied Elizabeth and lifted her onto a gurney before rushing her out of the room.

The officer stared down at Ric. “When he wakes up and starts screaming assault, the story we’ll go with is that he tripped and fell on his face.”

Jason squinted at him. First Lucky that morning, then Baldwin, now this kid—was there something in the water at the PCPD? He left the room, intending to follow the gurney, but he was stopped as Justus came out of the elevator, followed by Scott and Bobbie.

“We won. We officially have—” Justus’s face fell as the trio took in the empty room. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Were we too late?” Bobbie asked, grasping Scott’s arm. “Jason—”

“Monica took her to the cath lab. Elizabeth had…another clot.” Jason swallowed. “And Ric…” They turned to find the other man slowing to getting his feet, exchange a few words with the cop before his face turned red. “He fell. He wasn’t available to consult.”

Scott lifted his brows. “As long as Falconieri backs that up, I hope it felt good.” He gestured at Jason’s hand. “You might want to ice those down before Ric tries to press actual charges.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_You took all there was to take_  
 _And left me with an empty plate_  
 _And you don't care about it, yeah_  
 _And I am giving up this game_  
 _And leaving you with all the blame_  
 _Cause I don't care_  
\- Are You Happy Now, Michelle Branch

* * *

_Sunday, June 29, 2003_

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Kelsey paused just by the main hub of the squad room to pull a notepad and a set of folders from her bag. The officer behind the desk leaned over and with a leering grin she knew all too well, asked, “Can I help you, sweet heart?”

She sighed and, with her free hand, flashed her badge from the DA’s office. His expression didn’t become any less leering, but she was used to that.

A week in Port Charles had taught her that the problems in this city wasn’t just the allocation of resources. “I’m looking for either Detective Vincenzo Esposito or John Beaudry. Or Lieutenant Marcus Taggert—”

“Beaudry and Taggert are out, but Vinnie’s desk is just over there.” The officer jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards a set of desks where a man younger than Kelsey had expected sat. He was leaning back in the chair, his legs up on the desk, a folder in his lap that he appeared to be reading.

He was tall—she could tell that from the length of his legs—and lanky, with brown hair worn short. He glanced up when Kelsey approached his desk, and his chiseled features spread into a grin. “Hey there, good-looking. You looking for some protection?”

She hated these guys. These assholes who knew they were good-looking and wanted you to know they knew it. But Kelsey merely arched a brow, dropped her bag on the floor, and sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair adjacent to his desk. “Kelsey Joyce. Unit Chief of the Major Crimes Unit at the DA’s office.”

“Oh.” The grin faded slightly, and Vinnie sat up. “What brings you by? The Lansing case?”

“I’m not handling that directly,” Kelsey told him as she edged some of the paperwork on his desk aside to clear a space for her to set down her notepad. “I’m looking at the other cases being handled by the MCU.”

“You’d have to talk to our _new_ boss,” Vinnie said caustically, and now the smile had vanished. Sourness had crept into his tone, into his expression. “He has all the answers.”

“He took over less than twenty-fours ago,” Kelsey said in a measured tone. “The open cases I’m here to discuss are older.” She took a freshly sharpened pencil from her bag and opened the first file in her lap. “You have about ten open cases on which you’re serving as primary. Is that typical?”

Vinnie snorted. “Welcome to Port Charles. My partner rides out on patrol, and I’m not entirely sure when he last got out of his damn car.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, ten is about typical. Always has been.”

Kelsey frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I started here at the PCPD,” he told her. “Put in almost five years—got promoted to Detective on a fast-track. That’s how they get you, you know.” Vinnie wagged a finger at her. “They woo you with positions of authority, then blame you for failing. I was in Vice before they shuttered that and merged the divisions into Major Crimes in 1998.” He shrugged. “I got married to a chick in Buffalo, but you know quick marriages crack up fast these days.”

Kelsey was not the least bit surprised this idiot was already divorced once. She nodded. “Well, hopefully, the addition of a Lieutenant and more officers—”

“Rookies,” Vinnie snorted. “And lieutenants just sit in their ass. Didn’t you ever watch _Law & Order_?”

“Fair enough. I _am_ concerned about the heavy case load. Some of your cases go back to January and are still considered active.” She tapped her pencil. “You’ve got two open sexual assault cases. I checked the files but there’s not much there—”

“Never is in rape cases,” Vinnie said easily. “If you’re lucky enough to get a reporting victim, they usually don’t come in for days. The scene is ruined. No evidence. They go cold almost from the start.” He shrugged.

“Both of these victims were found by others unconscious at the scene.” Kelsey tipped her head. “Both in the park. Are you thinking it’s the same guy?”

“See, that’s how I _know_ you’re brand new.” Vinnie smirked. “This isn’t television and it’s not one of those Eve Dallas books. Not _everything_ is a serial killer or a mystery. What we got is two unrelated incidents, one of which I’m looking at the boyfriend for. His alibi is shaky, so it’s just a matter of breaking it. The other—” He shrugged. “You know the deal. No rape kits processed without a suspect. That’s policy.”

Kelsey nodded. She may not like his attitude, but he wasn’t wrong. Still…it troubled her that he was so quick to dismiss a connection. She’d have to keep her eye on these cases and hoped they progressed. “Well, I wanted to introduce myself in case you need any paperwork or warrants pushed through. I’d like to be someone you can rely on at the DA’s office.” She’d rehearsed that line before arriving and now regretted it because the leering grin had returned.

_Lord, grant me patience_. She got to her feet and packed up her files and folders. “Please pass that along to Detective Beaudry and Lieutenant Taggert. I’ll be in touch.” She, after a moment, gave him her card.

“Not a problem. Nice to have an ADA prettier than Baldwin,” he called after her. Kelsey left the room, but knew he was watching her.

She hated cops. Bunch of sexist assholes who still thought women only came in two categories, virgin and whore.

**General Hospital: ICU**

Almost an hour after Monica’s team had rushed Elizabeth away, Jason jumped out of his seat at the sight of his mother returning with Elizabeth on a gurney behind her.

He caught Monica’s arm as the team rolled Elizabeth back into her room and got her settled back into her bed. “Monica—”

“I broke up the last clot,” Monica told him with a triumphant, exhausted smile. “I’m not saying another _won’t_ form, but we’ve cleared her for now. We’ll keep monitoring, but her heart rate stabilized after we completed the procedure. I’m upgrading her to stable condition.”

Stable condition. Jason’s grip on her hand tightened as Nikolas visibly relaxed. “Stable. We’re not talking about percents anymore.”

“No, barring infection or a sudden clot, I’m cautiously giving her the green light. She stirred a bit during the recovery, and her score on the Glasgow scale went up—” At Jason’s frown, she explained. “We have stages of a coma. She was at a seven yesterday and this morning. She’s responding to pain and her eyes opened a few times. She’s at an eleven. A fifteen is fully conscious.”

“But that’s good,” Sonny said. “It means she’ll be okay. That she’ll come out of the coma.”

“Improvement on the scale does indicate that. I don’t want to promise anything, Jason,” Monica told him. “Or give you false hope.”

“I know that. But it’s good news.”

“It is.” Monica seemed to finally realize that it was Sonny who had asked the original question. “Oh, Sonny. I hadn’t—I’m so _sorry_. I didn’t even ask how Carly was.”

“Health wise, fine,” Sonny told her. Jason looked at him and grimaced. “Jason, it’s _fine_. I understand. We knew from the second Carly got here that her condition was okay. Elizabeth should have been your top priority.” He hesitated. “Physically she’s fine, but Bobbie’s with her now, trying to convince her she should talk to someone.”

“I’m just so glad you were able to find her. I know how it weighed on you and Elizabeth.” Monica touched his arm. “I need to go get some sleep. I’ve been…” She sighed. “Up too long. And I need to be at my best if any of my patients need me.”

“It’s fine, Monica. Go ahead. Thank you. For everything.”

“We got a miracle,” she murmured, looking back at the sleeping figure in the room. “Audrey and Steve were looking over her.” She patted his arm again, but this time, Jason embraced her because he knew that’s what she really wanted.

“Thank you,” he repeated.

“Take care of yourself, Jason. You need rest, too.” She touched his face with just a caress of her fingers before she withdrew. “I’ll be at the mansion if you need me.”

**Zacchara Estate: Study**

Trevor grimaced as Anthony Zacchara took his seat behind the desk. He’d had a plan to dispose of this crazy, insane bastard. That was supposed to be _his_ chair.

But instead he remained exactly where he’d been for the better part of the last twenty years—cleaning up Zacchara’s messes.

“What’s the situation in Port Charles?” Anthony demanded as he lit a cigar. “Your dumb fucking son dimed us out?”

“Not yet,’ Trevor admitted. “He’s playing a lot of legal games. He tried to get control over the girl’s condition so he could…” Do what, he wasn’t entirely sure. “But he was taken into custody about an hour ago for the charges against his wife and Carly.”

“Panic room in his own house,” Zacchara said with a sour grimace. “We groomed that little fucker to be smarter than that, didn’t we? What the _hell_ was he thinking?”

“I’m not sure he was. I think…” Trevor stopped. “I think it’s time we discussed doing something permanent with my son.”

Zacchara lifted his bushy brows. “Yeah? Your own kid? I knew you were a cold fish, but—” He shrugged.

Trevor scowled. As a man who had killed his second wife while trying to kill his young son in a fit of psychotic rage—Anthony had some goddamn _nerve_. “However, I do wonder if we do something to Ric, if it might attract more attention than we want.”

“You mean we got the same problem Corinthos and Morgan have? Yeah, Ric is too hot to pick off just yet. They’re probably waiting for the trial.” Anthony leaned back, took a long puff on the cigar, considered their options. “Corinthos has to guess we were a little bit involved.”

“It’s possible he thinks Ric was acting alone on anger against him. After a certain point, it’s clear that’s exactly what happened. I raised him to hate Sonny. I guess I went too far.”

“Eh, what are you gonna do? Kids end up being disappointments most of the time anyway. Mine are completely useless.” Zacchara shrugged. “Let’s play this one by ear. Ric ain’t gonna flip on us if he hasn’t yet. He’s got nothing to tie us to all this crap, and if the PCPD or the state could have gone for us, they would have. If we need to take of things later, we will.”

Trevor released a long breath. He knew the right answer was to eliminate the threat, but Ric was his son, after all, and maybe he could still be saved. They just had to tread carefully.

**General Hospital: Carly’s Room**

Carly blinked and tried to focus on her mother as Bobbie spoke again. That was the trouble—people kept talking and she kept drifting away. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t stay in the moment.

She’d tried to sleep the night before, but had woken with the room darkened—she’d started to scream—convinced she was still in the panic room, still trapped, still living with the threat of death hanging over her—

Sonny had rushed to her side trying to get her to come back to him, but she’d kept screaming—and the next thing Carly knew, it was morning. They must have given her something.

Carly realized Bobbie had stopped talking and was looking for her to answer. She forced herself to look at Bobbie. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “I—I don’t know what you just said.”

Patiently, Bobbie repeated, “I’d like you to speak with Kevin Collins. He specializes in trauma disorders. I think you’re at risk, Sweetheart.” She stood, smoothing the hair over Carly’s forehead. “You had a panic attack last night. And then when Sonny tried to talk to you about it, you just kept folding and refolding the same clothes.”

“I did?” Carly sighed. Closed her eyes. “I don’t remember. I—” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mama.”

“I know, and that’s why it’ll help to talk to Kevin. I’m not asking you to sign up for a year of therapy. Just let him come in. Ask a few questions.”

“Will he make it all go away?” Carly murmured. “I don’t want to think about it. I close my eyes, and I-I think I’m back there. I open my eyes, and for a minute, I’m still there. I know I’m in the hospital, but I can’t—I still feel like I’m chained, and I’m terrified he’ll come in the room—”

“He’s in jail. They took him into custody earlier today. He can’t hurt you or Elizabeth anymore.”

“Elizabeth.” Carly licked her lips. “She…was sick. They took her away. He tried to kill her. Every night. He put pills in her—” At her side, the heart monitor started to race.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “You told us, and you saved Elizabeth’s life. We knew immediately what was wrong. The paramedics brought the right equipment. You gave her a chance, and she’s doing better. She’s…” Bobbie hesitated. “She’s in a procedure right now that should make it better.”

“He wanted to give my baby to her, but she wouldn’t have done it. She didn’t trust him. I could see that.” Carly’s voice trembled. “I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t—”

“I know, sweetheart. And you did what you could. Now I’m asking you to do the same for yourself. Let me call Kevin. He’s an old friend, and I know he’ll come see you.”

“Okay.” Anything to make the darkness stay away. Anything at all.

**PCPD: Commissioner’s Office**

Floyd tossed the newspaper down in front of Mac. “It’s worse than we thought it would be,” he told him.

“I know,” Mac muttered as he picked it, looked at the editorial again. “Our closure rates are in the toilet, the conviction rates at the DA’s office aren’t great—”

“And I’m sure Baldwin getting himself arrested for contempt isn’t helpful,” Taggert muttered from his spot in the chair in front of Mac’s desk.

“Actually, I’m told initial response from the media is good. He was making an outcry on behalf of a victim. Baldwin always knows how to come out on top,” Floyd muttered. “You, my friend, are not so lucky,” he said to Mac.

Mac scowled. “What do you expect me to do? The city keeps cutting my budget. I’ve had to lay off officers—most of detectives are overworked—”

“And the ones who aren’t are lazy assholes the union won’t let us get rid of,” Taggert said. “I spent all night looking at the Major Crimes Unit, and it’s a fucking mess, Mac. If Beaudry was ever a good cop, it was years ago. I can’t tell if Vinnie is lazy or just overworked because he’s been the primary on every case to cross the squad’s desk since he came back to the job.”

“Can you reassign one of them?” Floyd demanded.

“No,” Taggert said bluntly. “Because _I_ can’t do this on my own. Vinnie is carrying ten cases. If I get rid of Beaudry, that’s five for us each—which isn’t going to make new cases coming up easier to deal with. I still have to do administrative crap.” He rubbed his forehead. “We got the rookies. They’re green, but I think they’re good.”

“This Lansing case—this is the city’s chance to make good. The closure rate is crap, and maybe we didn’t find Carly Corinthos, but we did arrest Lansing yesterday—”

“Because a member of this department leaked the story that put her in danger,” Mac said dryly. “I tried that spin. Jessica Mitchell—” He waved the paper. “She threw it back in my face. She’s got something against us—this isn’t the first time she’s come for me, but it’s the hardest, and well…” He sighed. “The most well-deserved.”

“You didn’t tell him to give the goddamn farm away,” Taggert said. “You wanted it in the gossip column to shake something loose. A rumor is one thing, verifying that Jason Morgan was at the goddamn house every damn day was…” He hissed. “Suicidal.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Floyd asked. “I need to have something to give the press, Mac, or as much as I personally like you, this department isn’t going to sink my career—”

Mac got to his feet. “Can you get the budget to hire experienced officers? Can you get me money to take care of testing? You know why Taggert’s in here, don’t you? He wants our back log of rape kits processed.”

“Twelve from the last three years haven’t been processed because of the policy against testing without a suspect. It’s a ridiculous policy—”

“It’s the only way to keep costs down. My only job here isn’t justice, Floyd,” Mac snapped. “If I go over budget, the council will have my job. If I don’t close enough cases, you’ll fire me. And if something slips through the cracks or my officers don’t do their jobs right, someone might die. Someone almost did. So what fucking miracles do you want me to accomplish without damn money or good cops?” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you think you’ve put enough fucking political pressure on me since you got elected?”

Floyd hesitated. They stared at one another for a long moment. “The end of the fiscal year is in September. I can request more money next year, but the council will have to take it from somewhere else—”

“And then we’ll just go around in more circles.” Mac sat back down, put his head in his hands. “Taggert, any bright ideas?”

“I guess…we can try to arrange the unit to deal with what we’re good at. Beaudry is okay at patrol. We’ll keep him on that. He can be first responder during his shifts. He can train the rookies to do that—show them the shortcuts.” Taggert squinted. “I guess Vinnie and I can figure out what we’re good at. He worked Vice and Sex Crimes in Buffalo, but I think he’s burnt out on it. Maybe I can give him Robbery and Homicides, I’ll take everything else.” He exhaled slowly. “We can try that.”

“I can sell that to the press,” Floyd said. “We’re re-evaluating our personnel, making sure that everyone is in the position that best suits their abilities. I’ll make the money a thing, Mac. But I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Yeah, me either.” Mac shot the mayor a dirty look that made Taggert frown, but it was gone so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined.

“Let’s see if I got any in me,” Taggert said, finally getting to his feet.

**General Hospital: ICU**

The layers of darkness began to dissipate and with a struggle, Elizabeth Webber opened her eyes.

And immediately started to choke and gasp for air.

“Wait, wait—” a hoarse voice touched her shoulders. “There’s a breathing tube—Monica!”

Her eyes focused on the man speaking—he was blurry, but she could make out the edges of his face—his tired and worn blue eyes, the stubble of beard on his jaw, the tousled dark blond hair.

She knew that face.

She thought she’d never see it again. Her fingers drifted up to touch it, and he took her hand, pressed it against his roughened cheek, closing his eyes briefly.

She could hear footsteps, felt someone else’s fingers near her face—and then burning pain as something slid out of her throat, scraping the raw skin.

“Careful now,” the familiar tones of Monica murmured. “Jason, some water—” And then a straw was at her cracked, sore lips. She drank greedily, quickly and then coughed when it was too much.

“What…what’s going on?” she managed, the words nothing more than a whisper. She felt herself rising up slowly as Monica Quartermaine pressed a button at the side of her bed.

Jason was at her side, one hand holding hers, the other smoothing her hair out of her face. She struggled, trying to remember what happened and where she was.

“Elizabeth,” Monica said, gently. “What do you remember?”

She licked her lips and Monica brought the water to her again. She drank a bit more. “I—I was—I was at the house. We were looking…but I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe, and everything was—” Her eyes widened, and she jerked her gaze to Jason. “Carly—”

She reached out, twisting her fingers in his oatmeal colored shirt. “Carly. She’s—the button. Did I find it? The panic room—I can’t _remember_ —”

“You found her,” Jason told her softly, his voice hoarse as he bent down to be closer to her. He took both her hands in his now, warming them. She could feel the tingles through her entire body as she became aware of everything.

And God…everything _hurt_.

“I found her,” Elizabeth managed. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I was talking to you.” Listening to his voice, thinking it would be the last she’d ever hear. “And then you…you were there.”

“I was on my way back,” Jason told her. He sat on the edge of her bed. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you again. But you—” He couldn’t speak, and Elizabeth looked at Monica, confused.

“Did I overdose again?” she asked, trying to search her brain. How could Ric have drugged her? She hadn’t eaten anything he’d made.

“Pulmonary embolism. Blood clots in your lungs. One choked off your oxygen, the other went to your heart.” Monica hesitated, her own voice faltering. “You went into cardiac arrest twice, Elizabeth.”

“Cardiac…” She furrowed her brows, looked at Jason. “Did—I died?”

“Your heart stopped twice,” he confirmed. “But they got you back, and you kept fighting. You’ve been in a coma—” He stopped, took a deep breath, as if trying to find the energy, the strength to continue. “For the last twenty-four hours.”

“How—how did—” She shook her head. “How did I get—”

“The symptoms were very similar to the withdrawal,” Monica sighed. “You would have dismissed them.” She came to the other side of the bed, studying the monitors. “But you should make a full recovery.”

There was more they weren’t telling her—she could see that. But for now, she focused on Jason’s face, and saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Carly,” she said again. “We found her.”

“She’s here. She’s…okay.” Jason smoothed his thumb over her palm. “You found her.”

“I did it.” Elizabeth closed her eyes, sank back against the pillows. “And…Ric…”

“Still in jail, charged with—” Monica stopped. “Well, we’re not expecting bail,” she said. Elizabeth frowned, but it was clear they wouldn’t tell her anything else.

“I’m going to go call Bobbie and Nikolas to let them know,” Monica told Jason. She looked back at Elizabeth. “Take it easy, okay? Don’t give us any more scares for a couple of hours.” She touched Elizabeth’s shoulder, then left the room.

Elizabeth looked back at Jason. “Have you been here the whole time?” she asked. “Did you see Carly? Is she really okay?”

“I was here until…” Jason hesitated. “I had to leave, but I—no, I haven’t seen Carly since we got here. There’s a lot…but-”

“You don’t want to tell me,” she said with a half-smile. “Because it’s all probably bad news.”

“Yeah,” Jason admitted. He brushed her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips trail down her cheek. “And I promised Monica I’d keep you resting as long as I could. There’ll be time for all of that.”

“Jason…how close did I—” She hesitated. Coughed. “How close…”

Jason was quiet for a moment, as if debating what to tell her. “When we got to the hospital, after the second cardiac arrest, they gave you a five percent chance of survival,” he admitted. “And you didn’t get upgraded into stable condition until this morning.”

And Elizabeth grimaced. “Was Ric here? Did…he’s—we’re married, so I guess—I don’t know. Was he here?” she asked again.

“Actually,” Jason said, “Nikolas found some paperwork you had drawn up last year giving me power of attorney.” A flush crawled up his neck as he cleared his throat. “I signed it, and Alexis filed it.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “After the crypt,” she murmured. “I…never got a chance to ask you.” She opened her eyes, looked at him. “I’m glad Nikolas found out, but…so _you_ had to make the decisions.”

“Yeah,” Jason admitted. “I’m glad it worked out, but…” He managed a smile of his own. “I’m with Monica on this. Can you try not to scare me again like that? At least for twenty-four hours?”

And if finding out the extent of Ric’s crimes and what had happened while she was in a coma would possibly upset her and compromise her condition—well then, Elizabeth didn’t think she wanted to deal with that right now anyway.

“I can try,” she murmured, and he smiled at the words—as if he knew exactly why she’d said it that way. She looked down at his knuckles, frowning at the bruised and broken skin. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—” He shook his head. “That’s for later.”

“Okay.” Her eyes drifted closed. “I’m so tired. Is that normal?”

“Yeah, Monica said you’d be drifting in and out.” He kissed her forehead again. “Rest. You earned it.”

“Thank you for not leaving,” she murmured as she felt him lift himself off the bed. She tightened her grip on his hand as it started to slide out of her grasp.

But she was sleep before he could respond, and Jason took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. Somehow, he hadn’t believed she’d really wake up.

But now she had.

And it was time for everything that came next.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_Now it's like I lied_  
 _When I said I didn't need you_  
 _Alright if you'd left I'd never be_  
 _Tonight can we just get it right_  
 _Somehow, for now_  
\- For Now, P!nk

* * *

_Sunday, June 29, 2003_

**General Hospital: ICU**

Elizabeth drifted in and out of sleep for another two or three hours, waking only long enough to drink some water and have her vitals checked.

Around six, the door open, and Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking blearily. “Who—” She fumbled for the controls of her bed, allowing it rise slowly.

“It took forever to get here,” Emily declared as she stepped up to the side of the bed. She had a smile on her face, but Elizabeth could see it was false. “I couldn’t get a flight yesterday; my professor gave me real shit about taking time off from the program,and then there were storms.” She huffed. “The universe was conspiring against me.”

Elizabeth managed a smile as Emily dragged a chair towards the bed. “But you came.”

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. God, Liz, I should have _dragged_ you with me—”

“Don’t—” Elizabeth coughed and reached blindly for the pitcher of water on the hospital tray on the side of the bed. Emily got back to her feet, dragged the tray so that it came closer to her and poured a glass.  “Thanks.”

“Have…have they talked to you about everything that happened?” Emily asked. She sat back down, her eyes dark with concern. “Nikolas kept me in the loop the best he could, but, um, Mom said they hadn’t really talked to you since you woke up.”

“They seem to think I’m not ready for it.” Elizabeth sighed, the fatigue dragging her eyes closed again. “Maybe they’re right. I know I almost died from blood clots, but I don’t understand how that happened—”

“Birth control pills,” Emily said bluntly. “In the ice cubes you drank. It was almost the first thing Carly said when they rescued her. He put birth control in them. Even if you didn’t eat anything or—”

“So, it wasn’t withdrawal…” Elizabeth forced her heavy lids open. “Why…did he bother with birth control…I wasn’t even…”

“But if you hadn’t believed, hadn’t avoided him,” Emily said softly. “He couldn’t take any chances you’d get pregnant and not want Carly’s baby.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know anything about…what did Monica call it?”

“Pulmonary embolism. Basically, it means that the blood clot burst and blocked your oxygen in your lungs. That’s why you passed out. Another blood clot went to your heart, so you arrested,” Emily said flatly. “It’s the same thing as an aneurysm in the brain.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “He nearly killed me again.”

“Yeah. And somehow, he ended up out on bail and filed some sort of case that gave him temporary control of your health—”

“What—” Elizabeth winced as she sat up. “Damn it.” She fell back, gasping for air. “But Jason said—”

“He found himself a conservative asshole. Ric put a stop on any treatment Jason had authorized and had him removed from your room. Jason had to go to court this morning over it.” Emily managed a smile. “And Scott Baldwin got himself arrested for contempt when he flipped out on the judge. Apparently, Baldwin even gave a good character reference for my brother.”

“I—” Elizabeth took another sip of water, trying to control her breathing. “They didn’t tell me—”

“Well, I’m probably not supposed to either, but it’s your health. Anyway, Ric got arrested again today, and he’s in jail again.” Emily bit her lip. “Are you okay—”

“I just—Jason told me hadn’t been able to see Carly since she got rescued, and I feel so awful about it—he was stuck here—”

“Well, if the judge wouldn’t accept a power of attorney drawn up a year ago with a new signature yesterday, Nikolas and Alexis were going to petition for the hospital to appoint a guardian. You just made it easier. No one was going to let Ric have control over your care.” Emily tipped her head.

Elizabeth stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry, Em—”

“No, no…it’s okay.” Emily got to her feet. “I’ll let you rest.” She kissed Elizabeth’s forehead. “Stop scaring me.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she murmured and stopped fighting the sweet darkness of sleep.

Emily sat by her side for a few minutes before spying her brother stepping off the elevator through the clear glass of Elizabeth’s room. She got up and met him outside by the hub.

“Hey.” Jason embraced her. “When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago—Mom picked me up and brought me straight here.” Emily squeezed her brother tightly. “She said you were grabbing some sleep for the first time in probably days.”

“I slept a little on Friday night,” Jason told her. “But yeah, it’s—” He shook his head. “It’s been a lot. Have you been in to see her?” He looked at Elizabeth’s room. “She’s been drifting in and out since she woke up.”

“Yeah, Mom said she’d do that for a while. We talked a bit. You didn’t tell her about Ric trying to kill her and forcing you into court,” Emily accused.

Jason grimaced. “Did you? I was—” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I was waiting until she was stronger.”

“Well, I told her. And she’s okay with it. She’s not delicate, Jase—”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been in the ambulance, watching her die,” Jason retorted, then scrubbed his hands over his face, wincing. “I’m sorry—”

“No, I guess it’s easier for me because I _wasn’t_ here.” Emily took his arm and they went towards the waiting room. “I’m so glad you guys found Carly. I guess Liz wasn’t wrong to stay even though—” She bit her lip. “Even though she kept putting herself in danger.”

“Ice cubes,” Jason muttered. “We had most of the house under surveillance. She kept drinking water to avoid eating—and kept putting ice in them—I don’t even want to think about how much she took in—” He sat down. “We found her. She’s awake, and Monica said, barring another clot, she’s out of the woods.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Emily bit her lip. “Is it too early to ask you what’s going on? I mean, I knew you were helping when I left. I _knew_ you were worried about her. But…” She dipped her head, trying to force him to meet her eyes. “It’s not just because she put herself in harm’s way for Carly.”

“No, it’s not. I broke up with Courtney,” he offered. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.” Emily looped her arms around his upper arm, practically hugging it. “Jase. Look, the thing is that you used to be really good at just putting things out there. You felt a thing, you said it. You wanted something, you took it. And you didn’t lie. You never saw the point.”

“I know—”

“As someone who hasn’t been around for the last two years, Jase…I can see that’s not true anymore. I mean…I came home last week to watch you marry a woman you dated for five months—a woman whose divorce to our brother isn’t even that old.” Emily watched as he grimaced again. “I know AJ hurt her, I’m not happy with that idiot either. But I—”

She hesitated. “I’m about to break the cardinal rule of best friends and tell you something Elizabeth…hinted at with me.  She thinks…whatever it is with Courtney…started _before_ Elizabeth moved out. And that’s why you didn’t…really try to work things out with her.”

Jason exhaled slowly. “I thought…I thought she knew I was with Brenda—but I guess—” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I guess she would believe that. She was angry when she found out. I didn’t— _she_ left _me_ , Emily.”

“She did. Because you let her believe Sonny was dead. You lied to her. You don’t think she deserved to know the truth?” Emily arched a brow. “Because let me tell you, a lot of people who don’t even _like_ Sonny were pissed at you over that. Mom called me, and she was literally off the chain—but Elizabeth always counted Sonny as a friend.”

“I get that—”

“Elizabeth has to put her entire life back together,” Emily told him. “She’s going to have a long recovery in her future—and I don’t need to tell you, but near-death experiences have a way of screwing with your head.”

“I know that—”

“And I want you to be happy, Jason, but you’re still lying to yourself.  I don’t get it.” Emily sighed, got to her feet. “I get lying to other people—we all do it—but if you can’t even tell yourself the truth, what’s the point—”

“She left me,” Jason said in a quiet voice. “And she told me I had ruined everything. I knew how angry she was. How hurt she was. I tried…to talk to her, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t make her stop being angry. So, I stopped trying.”

“Okay.” Emily sat back down.

“She told me I was all about Sonny, and that’s not true. I know why she thought it, and maybe—I could have tried harder to explain myself, but every time I opened my mouth, I couldn’t seem to make it right. And Brenda was threatening to make trouble. I just wanted to stop thinking about Elizabeth. I married Brenda, so I could protect her when she was sick.”

“What about Courtney?”

Her brother squeezed his eyes shut. “She was there. And she wasn’t angry at me. I was…lonely, I guess. I don’t know. It seemed to kind of happen out of nowhere. And for a while, it helped. For a while, I wasn’t thinking about Elizabeth. Except…I didn’t want anyone else to know. I didn’t want Sonny—”

“But people found out.”

“Sonny ordered me to break up with her, and I couldn’t—” Jason shook his head. “I couldn’t believe he’d do that. It wasn’t any of his business. He hadn’t really given a damn about Courtney until then. He didn’t have any right to tell me that, and he was the reason I lied to Elizabeth. Even if I didn’t want to be with Courtney, if I walked away—”

“Then it’d be like Elizabeth was right. That it _was_ all about Sonny.” Emily sighed. “Do you…feel better saying it out loud?”

“I never meant to hurt Courtney. I know I didn’t do any of this right. I shouldn’t have asked her to marry me. I didn’t really care, and Carly said she wanted to get married. I put Elizabeth out of my head. I didn’t even know her grandmother died.” Jason looked at his sister. “I couldn’t let myself think about her. But after…after Carly went missing, I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t put her away anymore.”

‘Okay.” Emily rubbed his shoulder.  “So, you broke up with Courtney. Good. Jason, you deserve someone who loves you, yeah. But _you_ should really love them, too. It won’t work otherwise.”

“I know that.” Jason shoved himself to his feet. “I just…every time Elizabeth and I are in this position—one of us does something to make the other angry and walk away. I don’t want to do that anymore. Cardiac arrest. Twice. Emily, they had to shock her heart back into rhythm _two_ times.”

“That must have been so hard to watch. It kills me to think of her going through it. I wish I could have been here,” she murmured, pressing her cheek into the sleeve of her brother’s short-sleeved blue shirt.

“For thirty seconds in that ambulance, Emily, she was dead. They almost didn’t get her back. They had to shock her four times—” His voice faltered. “For thirty seconds, I thought—I didn’t know what I was gonna do. I thought it was enough she was here, somewhere. Happy with someone else. But it’s not enough for me.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she tried to speak past the lump in her throat. “Jason—”

“So, if Elizabeth will give this another chance, then…” Jason looked down at her, his eyes shimmering with tears she so rarely saw from him. “Then…that’s where I want to be.”

_Monday, June 30, 2003_

**Quartermaine Estate: Family Room**

Monica sipped her orange juice and closed her eyes, listening to the beautiful silence. The mansion was so rarely quiet these days—Edward was always raging at someone, and Tracy was back, trying to wrest control of the company again.

And God knew, Tracy fought with everyone, so Monica treasured these moments when no one else was around.

Behind her, the terrace doors opened, and Ned came in, followed by his sullen daughter. “I don’t know what the problem is,” Brooke snapped as she sat at the breakfast table and poured her own glass of orange juice. “I just want a car.”

“And I said we’d talk about it when your attitude improved.” Ned smiled at her, but even Monica could see the teeth her nephew-in-law was trying not to bear in response. “It’s actually gotten _worse_.”

A sound emerged from Brooke’s mouth that was half growl, a quarter shriek, and a quarter of a whine. Monica winced to listen to it. She did not miss having a teenager—she and Alan had barely survived their trio of hellions.

Dillon strode in from the foyer, saw Brooke and Ned, stopped, spun around, and started right back out the door.

Ned, desperate for any port in the storm, lunged to his feet. “Dillon! My baby brother! I’ve missed you!”

“I saw you at dinner,” Dillon muttered, but he was too nice not to give in to the desperation, and reluctantly joined the three of them. “Good morning. I think. Are we sure?”

“Your mother hasn’t joined us yet,” Monica said dryly, “so I suppose—” She grimaced as she heard Tracy and Edward arguing on the stairs. “There it is.”

“Aren’t you going to the hospital today?” Ned asked, ignoring his daughter’s glare. He sliced open a croissant. “Usually you’re already gone.”

“I’m taking a few extra hours,” Monica said. “It was a long…” she shook her head. “A long weekend.”

“Yeah, I bet. But Emily said Elizabeth is going to be okay now, right?” Dillon asked. He eyed Brooke warily before asking, “Can I have the jam?”

Brooke shoved the jar towards him, but like everything else—she did it angrily, and it tipped over, hitting the porcelain plate with a smash—and the plate cracked. She glared at it.

“Well, that’ll teach me,” Dillon said with a sigh.

“Brooke,” Ned hissed. “You can be angry with me, but they’ve done n _othing_ to you—”

“They’re the reason Ma left you, so what the hell do I care?” Brooke demanded. She lunged to her feet. “I hate it here, and I hate all of you. I’m nineteen, I can do what I want.”

“So, go _do_ what you want,” Monica snapped impatiently, as she watched Dillon quietly clean up the plate and wince when he nicked himself. “Who’s stopping you?”

Brooke hesitated. “He is—”

“You’re nineteen,” Monica retorted. “Go get a goddamn job and stop blaming everyone else. You’re here because you’re failing out of school. _No one_ at this table is the reason your mother left this house—” She heard Edward screaming at Tracy. “I repeat— _at this table_ —but that was years ago. Stop blaming us. Go get a job. Buy your own car. Get your own place.”

Brooke stared at her, eyes wide. “I—I don’t even know what I’m good at except singing,” she admitted in a quiet voice. She sat down with a thud, her eyes on the table cloth. “Ma said I wasn’t gonna get anywhere with my voice.”

Ned exhaled slowly. “She said you wouldn’t go far if you _only_ relied on your voice. We wanted you to take some business classes. We won’t always be here to protect you. If you’re intent on a career, I want you to understand your contracts, so no one can cheat you.”

Brooke studied him. “You’re not trying to make me into you?”

“No. _I_ don’t even want to be me half the time.”

She bit her lip. “Okay.” She looked at Dillon, who had shoved his nicked fingertip in his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break—”

“Could have happened to anyone.” Dillon waved it off. “But, ah, I think I’ll get breakfast at Kelly’s—”

“I’ll go with you,” Brooke said, missing Dillon’s grimace. “The last time I was there, they said they were hiring, and I—I need something to do.”

Dillon sighed, but didn’t argue as she followed him out of the room.

“How did you do that?” Ned demanded. “You fixed her.”

“There’s no fixing teenagers,” Monica muttered as she carefully tossed the plate into a trash can. “You just know what’s bothering her _today_. Something else will come up tomorrow.”

“Fair point.” Ned shifted in his seat, wincing as his mother and grandfather’s argument appeared to be coming closer to them. “Before they come in and really ruin our appetites…Dillon asked you if Elizabeth was doing all right.”

“She is,” Monica said, with a squint of her eyes. “Why do you care?”

“Oh…I—I did some business with Ric, and I feel…I don’t know—I feel like I was partially responsible. It’s silly.” Ned rubbed the back of his neck. “Jason came to ask me about it when he was looking for Carly. So, I guess—”

“She came out of it, but it’s a miracle.” Monica sighed, and winced as Tracy and Edward stormed into the room.

“I want you out of my house!” Edward thundered at his daughter. Tracy hissed, flung an arm in Monica’s direction.

“It’s not your house. It’s _her_ house!”

“And I gave it to her,” Alan said mildly as he joined them all. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning for this—”

Monica groaned and let her head fall into her hands. Some days, this goddamn family—she knew exactly why Jason had fled this house.

**General Hospital: ICU**

Nikolas grimaced as he walked through Elizabeth’s open door. “How much longer are you going to be stuck in here?” he asked, taking a seat at her bedside.

“Another day or so.” Elizabeth picked at a piece of loose thread from the pajama top that Emily had brought her. “Monica said she’d feel better if I had seventy-two hours without any more clots. And then I’ll be out of here sometime next week.”

“Out of the hospital?” Nikolas raised his brows. “Is that enough time? I guess she’d know.” He hesitated. “We haven’t…really spoken in almost a year, have we?”

“No, I guess not. Thank you for coming home. I know you did it because Bobbie asked—”

“I came because she asked, but she asked because she knew I cared about you. The only way to get you out of that house was to find Carly, so that made it my fight.” Nikolas hesitated. “For all the times I didn’t stand by you. For the times I took Lucky’s side—”

“I didn’t think of it that way—”

“But that’s what it was. I took his side. I took Gia’s side. I took anyone’s side but yours, and I can’t ever go back and do it over.”

“We all made mistakes, Nikolas. I don’t hold them against you. I mean, how can I? Emily…she told me you and Jason worked all night on Saturday to get ready for that hearing. You worked with _Jason_ because of me.” Elizabeth met his eyes with a wry grin. “Nothing else proves to me that you’re on my side.”

“My issues with Jason…were never about him,” he admitted. “It was…he got swept up in a lot of complicated guilt and just…anger that my brother _never_ really came home. And I kept blaming Jason even though he was…well, he’s not innocent by _any_ stretch—but of that particular crime—yeah.”

“How’s Laura?” Elizabeth asked after a moment. “I know you’ve been in London with her—I hate to think you’ve left her on my account—”

“Luke showed up about…I guess it’s two weeks ago now,” Nikolas told her. “And I don’t know where he’s been the last six months—he got into a drunken fight with Lucky when he found out Lucky was going into the academy—”

“I hate that they haven’t been able to put things back together,” Elizabeth murmured. “They were so close before…before I got attacked. Before the fire, they were getting there again. Luke was the kind of father I wanted mine to be.”

“Well, Luke was closer to that man in London than he’s been in a very long time,” Nikolas told her. “So I let him stay. Because I know my mother loves him, and he’s proved that he loves her. She’s…” He managed a weak laugh. “She started to respond to therapy.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth’s eyes watered, and she pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh. I’m so happy—I’ve missed her so much. Do they think she’ll make a full recovery—”

“She should. The doctors think it was just a lifetime of traumatic experiences—my uncle told me she had some moments when they were on the island when she would retreat into herself. I can’t blame her for that,” he murmured.

“Do you need to be back with her?” Elizabeth asked. “You should go—”

“I _am_ going to go back in a few days, but I wanted to make sure you were out of the woods—that Jason—” Nikolas hesitated. “Sonny was very occupied with Carly—and that makes sense. But I knew that Jason needed someone. Once it got rolling—we kept working together, and it seemed stupid to stop just because Carly was found. But Emily is here, and Carly will be released possibly tomorrow, from what I’ve heard.”

“I hope you’ve seen what a good man Jason is,” Elizabeth said softly. “He’s human—we made mistakes—but—”

“I’m not saying we’re best friends, but there’s a respect now that I don’t think was there before. We both love you, Elizabeth. It’s easy to work together when you have such a good cause.” He flashed her a smile. “So, talk to me about what comes next. What happens when you’re released.”

**General Hospital: Carly’s Room**

Carly smiled when her best friend strode in the room and gasped with joy. “You’re out of bed!” Courtney said, her eyes bright.

Carly held her hands out, tapping the seat cushion next to her on the small sofa. “I am. I just came back from my first session with Dr. Collins.”

“Sonny said that was today.” Courtney sat down. “Are—you look so good. So—you. He didn’t fix you in a session—”

“No, but acute stress disorder is apparently very treatable—the symptoms if they’re managed right—they can disappear in a matter of weeks. We just really talked about…” Carly hesitated. “He had me talk about the panic room, and then he talked me through a panic attack.”

“I can’t imagine how it must have been locked in that room,” Courtney murmured. “Jason kept insisting—and I guess Elizabeth did, too, but to everyone else—it just seemed _impossible_.”

“I know.” Carly scratched her temple, restless. “Thank you—Sonny said you took Michael to the island and stayed with him and Leticia since it happened. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, he was so upset, but Bobbie suggested he talk to a child psychologist—and we did that last week before we left. It helped, and it gave me some things to try when he got scared.” Courtney rubbed her hands against the thighs of her denim jeans. “Sonny said there were…cameras. So, you could see what was happening.”

“Yeah…all the rooms. It helped because I could see Jason looking for me, but it was awful at the same time.”

“You saw Jason on the cameras…with Elizabeth.” Courtney’s eyes flitted back and forth. “I feel awful asking you this—”

“You’re asking me if they were having an affair where I could see it?” Carly asked with a sigh. How did she answer this question? Because until Saturday—that last day—she could honestly say there’d been no physical evidence of anything between her best friend and the woman Carly had disliked for long.

But that would be ignoring everything Carly _had_ seen—the way they’d searched together—how well they had communicated, sometimes without even moving their lips. And then…there _had_ been that last day—before Jason had left—when they’d argued—and she’d seen them kiss.

It didn’t look like the first time, but somehow…Carly didn’t feel comfortable sharing any of that. It had been private and not meant for anyone else.

And Elizabeth had nearly given her life trying to free Carly from her nightmare. How did she turn around and aim Courtney’s wrath at her?

Uncomfortable, Carly shifted. “Not the way you mean it no, but—” Give her a different target, she told herself. “To be honest, Courtney, if I hadn’t been kidnapped— _I_ was thinking of ways to stop your wedding.”

Courtney’s eyes bulged. “What—” She shook her head. “What are you talking about? You—we got ready together—”

“We did,” Carly agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I could…” She hesitated. “I could see it was a mistake. I stopped looking at you, and I started looking at Jason.” She gestured to Courtney’s hand. “I can’t help but notice the ring is gone.”

“He broke up with me,” Courtney muttered. “For her. But it won’t last. It never does. I messed up, Carly. I—I was scared, and I wanted to help, so I called the police that night—and I let them search the penthouses—”

Carly stared at her. “You…you called the police and let them…” She pressed a hand to her abdomen as the baby rolled and kicked. “You cooperated with the police and let them into Jason’s home.”

“I was scared, and I knew they wouldn’t find anything—”

“You let them into my home—” Carly winced. “I’m surprised either of them are talking to you or that it took Jason a week to take back the ring.”

“I—” Courtney lifted her chin. “I was scared.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like. I spent a lot of time nearly getting both of them arrested because I was scared and trying to help. I thought you would have learned from _my_ bad example.”

“I find it funny,” Courtney said, her teeth clenched as she shot to her feet. “That in the space of a week, my own family and fiancé have decided I’m a _complete_ idiot. You would have thought you’d give me more credit than that.”

“I also would have thought you wouldn’t call the police when Sonny and Jason already knew who took me,” Carly shot back.

“Fine. Be like everyone else. Elizabeth Webber is better than me, I get it. I have to go.” She stalked out, but Carly only scowled.

“You know _I_ was the one who was kidnapped!” she called after her, remembering now why she’d once found her sister-in-law incredibly irritating.

**General Hospital: ICU**

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth murmured, twisting her fingers in the white blanket of her hospital issued bed linen. She lifted her eyes to Bobbie’s concerned gaze. “Do you really think I need to start therapy again?”

“I admit that I’ve been making that recommendation to nearly everyone involved,” Bobbie said with a half-smile. “I talked Carly into letting Kevin evaluate her. I arranged for Michael to see a psychologist, and I think I’ll be suggesting the same for Sonny.”

Elizabeth snorted at that thought. “Well, why not—he’s already the Godfather, why not also be Tony Soprano while he’s at it—” But she remembered now that Sonny had broken down and thought he’d seen Lily. “It might do him some good if he can figure out how to present his case without getting himself arrested.”

“I have thoughts about that, but I guess what I’m mostly—I just think you’ve been through a lot this last year—these last few years,” Bobbie told her. “It might do you some good.”

“I just think I need some time,” Elizabeth said, but her voice didn’t sound that convincing. “I mean…I can talk to you—”

“I love you,” Bobbie told her softly. “Which means I am eminently biased. I’m so glad you’ve already taken steps—that you’re going to let Nikolas find you an apartment—”

“With my trust fund from Gramps and inheritance from Gram,” Elizabeth added quickly. “He’s not paying—”

“But the fact of the matter is that you were drugged by someone who you trusted, who you married. I worry that you’re just going to shove that down. I know that it’s tempting to just try to pick up and move on—I’ve done it. And every time I didn’t deal with my pain, I threw myself into the next thing. Which is why I’ve been divorced nearly as many times as Elizabeth Taylor.”

“I—” Elizabeth let her head sink back against the pillow. “I guess…it wouldn’t hurt—to just see Gail once. Talk it all through once. I can do that.”

“Good.” Bobbie smiled, patted her arm. “Good. That makes me very happy. I think of you as one of my own, you know that. You have always meant the world to me, and you nearly killed yourself giving me back my daughter. You did that for me and for Jason. I just want to be there for you—”

“You have been. You would have been.” Her eyes watered. “I should have called you after Gram—when I was struggling and unsure about everything. You would have been someone to talk to. I just—I couldn’t reach out. I don’t know why—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “But that’s why you want me to talk to Gail. To see why I can’t seem to grab onto anyone else when I’m drowning—so I guess…I’ll talk to her and see what happens.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_When the sharpest words wanna cut me down_  
 _I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out_  
 _I am brave, I am bruised_  
 _I am who I'm meant to be, this is me_  
 _Look out 'cause here I come_  
 _And I'm marching on to the beat I drum_  
 _I'm not scared to be seen_  
 _I make no apologies, this is me_  
\- This is Me, Keala Settle

* * *

_Tuesday, July 1, 2003_

**General Hospital: ICU**

Elizabeth fumbled with the bed controls, wincing as she raised herself up until she was sitting at a higher angle. Seated beside her sat Gail Baldwin, one of her grandmother’s closest friends—and a woman who had helped her through the most traumatic experience of her life.

The only reason Elizabeth had acquiesced to talking to anyone was that Bobbie promised her that Gail was available. At least with Gail, there wouldn’t have to be a lot of painful background, a lot of family exploration—she’d done so much of that the first time around.

“Thanks for coming here,” Elizabeth said. “Monica isn’t letting me move around until tomorrow when they move me to my own room.”

“You’re only a few floors away from my office.” Gail still looked as she had the last time Elizabeth had come for a session—her grandmother had encouraged to see Gail a few times after Tom Baker had been caught, but she didn’t feel like she still needed regular therapy and hadn’t seen her in nearly four years.

Gail’s hair was still worn short with soft curls, though streaks of gray intermingled more freely than they had before. She wore a cream-colored jacket with a matching skirt, gold jewelry at her ears and around her wrist.

“So where do we start?” Elizabeth asked dully. She met Gail’s eyes. “Do I tell you what’s been going on?”

“We can do that,” Gail said. “You agreed to see me because Bobbie asked you.”

“It was important to her.” Elizabeth picked at her fingers; the nails had been bitten almost to the quick and were painful as they grew back.

“If you’re just humoring her, my dear—”

“She doesn’t…she’s worried about me. I guess…” Elizabeth hesitated. “I guess I get that. I know it seems crazy—um…that I stayed with Ric. That I married him in the first place.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t really…” Elizabeth’s eyes met Gail’s briefly then she looked away. “He was drugging me. Did Bobbie mention it?”

“I’m aware of it. Valium and birth control—”

“Since January,” Elizabeth cut in. “I don’t know why. I don’t—” She huffed. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. Why this—why this is so _hard_.”

“Okay.” Gail was quiet for a moment, but Elizabeth could feel her gaze on her. “If you’re not ready talk about the past, let’s talk about tomorrow.”

“What? Oh. Okay. Um…well, tomorrow I get my own room, and Monica says I can be released in five days. A friend—Nikolas—is arranging an apartment—I’m paying for everything—he’s just getting it ready for when I move in.”

“Is it important for you that I know you’re paying your own way?” Gail said. “Do you think I assumed you weren’t?”

“I—” Elizabeth blinked at her. Realized Gail was right—and that it was the fourth or fifth time she’d explained it that way. She’d told Bobbie…and Monica…and Jason—even Emily—she’d immediately reassured _all_ of them that she’d be using her own funds to pay for the apartment, to furnish it—that Nikolas was just helping with the details. He’d always been good at details.

“I guess I did. I don’t know why,” she murmured. “I guess…I think people see me as weak—or the papers—I saw the gossip columns in the _Sun_ —I had one of my doctors get the last few issues for me because no one else would—”

“Okay.” Gail waited a moment. “Do you often assume people are thinking the worst of you?”

“I—” Elizabeth licked her lips. “ _Aren’t_ they?”

“I don’t know. Do you think anyone _would_ have thought less of you for asking for financial assistance?” Gail asked. “You’re recovering from a serious illness, going through what I imagine will be a difficult divorce. You left your job when you got married. Do you think anyone who cares about you would have thought you weak for asking for help?”

Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip, considering that. Nikolas _had_ offered to help her financially—and Jason already was, wasn’t he? Justus had done so much paperwork on her behalf and she’d never even thought about paying him. And there was the divorce lawyer that Justus had recommended—had she thought about how much someone like Diane Miller cost?

“When…when this started…when, I mean…Carly was kidnapped, and I—Jason, Sonny, Emily, Bobbie—they all came to the house. And they kept trying to convince me to leave. Because they didn’t think I could help. They kept trying to make me leave. Jason wanted to send me away.”

“Because he thought you were weak,” Gail said.

“I—yes,” but Elizabeth suddenly felt less sure. “I mean…maybe weak isn’t the right word. Um.”

“Is it possible, Elizabeth, that they thought you were in danger and any help you could offer might come at the cost of your life?” the older woman asked, her tone soft and gentle.

“I—” Tears burned behind her eyes. “That was part of it. But it wasn’t all of it. Sonny and Jason think I’m not strong enough. I _know_ that. They think I can’t do it. That’s why…that’s why Jason left me.” Her chest felt sore, and Elizabeth rubbed it absently, wincing as the IV in her wrist stretched.

“Is that what he said?”

“No, but it’s—” Elizabeth hesitated. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. Of course they think I’m weak. Look where I ended up.” She gestured with her free hand at the hospital room. “Almost dead. They were right.”

Gail hesitated. “Do you often assume people are thinking the worst of you?” she repeated. “Without asking them?”

“I—” Elizabeth considered the question more than she had the first time. “I guess I kind of do. Is…is that bad?”

“No, it’s human. We’re storytellers. It’s how we function,” Gail said with another one of those smiles. “We tell ourselves stories all day long. And a lot of time, we make ourselves the star of them because it’s just how we are. But sometimes…we _also_ make ourselves the villain. We create stories that make us look bad because it reinforces how we feel about ourselves.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that’s—I like—” but she couldn’t finish that sentence. She _didn’t_ like herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. “So, because I don’t like who I am…I tell myself other people don’t either?” she asked skeptically.

“It’s more that…and this is just a possibility we can explore,” Gail told her. “It’s perhaps that you have conditioned yourself to disappointment, to unhappy endings. So, you create a story in your head that fulfills that. You said Jason left you because you were weak.”

“Y-yes,” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Um…what’s the confidentiality thing again? How does that work?”

“I am only required to report any _future_ crimes,” Gail said with a knowing smile. “Everything in the past—I’m bound to keep it to myself. This is a safe space, Elizabeth.”

“He lied to me last fall—when Sonny faked his death. He didn’t tell me. We were kind of dating—and he let me think for weeks that Sonny was dead. He didn’t think I could handle it. I wasn’t strong enough,” Elizabeth told her.

“And then he left you,” Gail stated, though her eyes were puzzled now. “Because you…couldn’t handle it.”

“I—” And now Elizabeth could see how that didn’t quite fit. “I left him,” she murmured. “He said that to me a few days ago. I left him. But—but he—he lied.”

“And you were hurt, so you left. That seems perfectly understandable.”

“It—it does.” She paused. “Why…why did I say he left me?”

“I don’t know. Does it feel like he did?” Gail asked. “Were you surprised he lied to you about Sonny?”

“ _Yes_.” And that Elizabeth felt to the core of her entire being. “Yes. Because he’d never—I never _ever_ thought he’d put me through that. I liked Sonny. I cared about him. We were close once and I was so upset. For Jason and for Carly, because of who they lost, but because I would miss him—” The tears she’d swallowed earlier slid down her cheeks. “I had to leave him. I couldn’t stand it. How could he care about me and do that?”

“Did you ask him?”

“I—I tried. But he just looked at me—and he said it wasn’t about me. I didn’t get it. I was living with him partly because I had been in danger. I had helped him with Zander, a-and I had been shot and kidnapped because of him. I thought I had earned the right to—” The words spilled from her lips, and she pressed her hands to her mouth.

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. He said it wasn’t about me, and I just shut down. I couldn’t breathe, I was so devastated. It wasn’t about me. I didn’t matter. I can—he didn’t say it, but I could almost hear it in his voice. _I didn’t matter_. Carly turned Sonny into the feds and regularly almost got both of them arrested, but _she_ got to know. I had never _ever_ let Jason down. I had always kept his—” She turned away. “I couldn’t tell him that then. And he came to see me the next day, looking so hurt—like I had hurt him. He couldn’t see it.”

“It sounds…to me…that you had a reasonable reaction to what had happened. You felt you had earned his trust, and he hadn’t trusted you.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. “It must have been something I did—I—we weren’t together, so I guess it wasn’t technically cheating, but I slept with someone else over the summer—and I don’t think he ever forgave me.”

“Is last week the first time you’d really had to see him since this happened?” Gail asked.

“Yeah. It was—it was hard because it was like it used to be sometimes. He was just—he was there. And I called him. Jason made me check in constantly—he said it was the only way he’d let me go back. I called him every night before I tried to sleep—” She exhaled slowly. “It was…it was a lot of emotions running high, adrenaline. He kissed me, but it didn’t mean anything. I don’t—” She stopped. Looked at Gail. “But that’s me doing it again, isn’t it?”

“Doing what?”

“Creating a story that makes me unhappy. That assumes the worst. Maybe I’m just anticipating what’s probably going to happen and just trying to get myself ready.”

“What’s probably going to happen?”

“This will all…fade,” Elizabeth said after a long moment. “I’ll go back to my life, and Jason will go back to his. I know he said he and Courtney argued, but he must love her. He was going to marry her—and he tried _so_ hard with her—and she’s Sonny sister. So, I can’t let myself think last week meant anything…” she trailed off. “Can I?”

“I think we should leave it here for today,” Gail told her. “I have some homework for you to do before we meet again.”

Elizabeth eyed her. “We’re meeting again?”

“I think it might be a good idea, but of course, that’s up to you. Whether you make another appointment or not,” Gail said, “my homework assignment remains the same.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth said hesitantly.

“I want you to do two things,” Gail said, holding up two fingers. “One, I want you to create a story about last week that gives you a happy ending. And two, I want you to ask Jason what it meant.”

“I—” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I—I can try the first, but I can’t—”

“Why _can’t_ you ask him?”

“What if he says it didn’t mean anything? What if I’m right? Because I’m right,” Elizabeth insisted. “Jason and I are doomed. It’s just a fantasy—”

“If you’re right, then you’ve already written that story. But I think Jason might have earned himself the right to be the one writing the ending for a change.” Gail got to her feet. “You’ve been through so much, Elizabeth. Just in the last six months. I think it would help to talk through it.”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see how I feel after I do my homework,” Elizabeth muttered, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back against the pillows. “I don’t _want_ to be unhappy.”

“We’ve set our first goal,” Gail said with a smile as she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “It’s a bit more abstract than I like, but I’ll settle for it. Turn it around. Make it positive, Elizabeth. You don’t want to be unhappy.”

“I feel like I’m supposed to say I want to be happy—but I feel like that’s…” Impossible. “Am I allowed to say I just want to be okay?”

“You’re allowed to say whatever you want. Call me when to schedule another appointment when you’ve moved into your own room.”

**Corinthos Penthouse: Living Room**

Bobbie smiled at Max as he let her inside the penthouse just after one. Inside, she found Sonny finishing up lunch with Michael. Her grandson lit up when she saw her and flew across the room.

“Grandma!” Michael wrapped his arms around her. “Daddy says Mommy can come home tomorrow!”

“That’s the word on the street.” Bobbie pressed a kiss to his bright blonde hair and then smiled at Sonny. “It’ll be good to have her back—and hopefully she’ll be able to get back into the swing of things.”

“You were right to encourage us to get Kevin to talk to her so quickly.” Sonny stacked the plates and handed them to his son. “Put these on the counter so Graziella can take care of them while we’re at the hospital, and then go upstairs to get ready to see Mommy.”

“Yep!” Michael sang out. He zoomed into the kitchen, and Sonny tried not to wince at the sound of the clatter of the dishes being dumped into the sink. Michael then flew past them up the stairs.

“He’s bouncing back pretty well,” Bobbie murmured, following him. “He might be the only one who is.”

“It’ll just take some time.” Sonny sighed, rubbed his forehead. “Last night was probably the first full night of sleep I’d had since this started.”

“Same here. I’d gone without sleep for so long I couldn’t quite let myself sleep much on Sunday night.” Bobbie hesitated. “I know that you and I have not been…close…but I like to think we’ve got a decent relationship.”

“Of course, Bobbie. We couldn’t have gotten through this without you.” He grimaced. “I was…mostly useless. And I know you were there for Michael, for Jason—for everyone.”

“I was here when…Jason gave you the sedative.” Bobbie folded her arms. “It led me to believe that it’s not the _first_ time you’ve needed one.”

“I, ah…” Sonny looked away. “It’s never been that bad, but no…it’s not,” he admitted in a low voice. “You must be worried about Carly and Michael—”

“I’m worried about _you_ ,” Bobbie said. “I’m worried about all of us. If nothing else, this experience told me that no one in this family—and I’m including Jason and Elizabeth—does well with trauma. None of us know how to ask for help, how to reach out.”

“We managed to get through it,” Sonny said, and she could see he was ready to dismiss the entire experience to the heap of memory.

“Have you ever talked to anyone?” Bobbie asked. Her son-in-law flashed her a fond, if irritated smile.

“Do you get commissions from the Psych department, Bobbie? Michael, Carly—I hear you talked Elizabeth into seeing someone—”

“I’m a nurse, so I see the signs faster. Michael just needed someone to help him process—and we needed to get a handle on what to do for him. Carly is going to be okay because she’s treating the symptoms quickly. It’s not going to fester. But yes, I wanted Elizabeth to talk to someone who isn’t one of us. Who doesn’t have a vested interest in hating Ric or worrying about her. And that’s why I want you to do talk to someone.”

“It’s not possible.” Sonny turned away from her.

“You live a…difficult life,” Bobbie said. “And, yes, I worry about my daughter and my grandson. Because if you hallucinated Lily once, what could you conjure the next time?”

“Bobbie—”

“And what if someone who does not like you learns you have…a problem?” she pressed. “Am I wrong to think they’d exploit it?”

Sonny dipped his head. “I’m not Tony Soprano, Bobbie—”

“I’m just—I don’t want it to happen again. And maybe I’m thinking about Jason who had to shoulder all of the weight last week because _you_ couldn’t be relied upon. It’s not your fault, but it happened. And Elizabeth saw that pressure he was under, and she felt the same pressure to find Carly. You couldn’t shoulder your responsibilities.”

His eyes were burning now. “Is this supposed to be concern?” he demanded, stepping towards her. “Or—”

“This is the God’s honest truth, Sonny. I worry about you, but Carly, Michael, and the baby come first for me. If you’re fine with the occasional psychotic break, then fine. It’s _your_ life. But you have no _right_ to put my grandchildren in danger.”

Michael came down the steps then, so excited he was practically vibrating. “Are you coming with us, Grandma?”

“I wish I could, Baby, but I have to get to work. I took a lot of time off last week. I’ll try to stop in on my shift.” She kissed his head again, ruffled his hair, and then left.

**PCPD: Squad Room**

Taggert frowned down at the stack of police reports and reached for the next one, unsure if there would ever be an end to the administrative crap he had to do now.

He’d split the work in the unit the way he’d told Mac he would—but neither Vinnie nor Beaudry had been thrilled with the new division. Vinnie had been more than happy to hand over future sex crimes, but balked at giving Taggert his open investigations. Beaudry liked not having any cases of his own but didn’t appreciate the fact that Taggert planned to come along on some of the patrols.

He’d hoped by transferring, by being in a new environment and people around him that he would be happier—that he would recover the satisfaction he’d once felt in his job.

Maybe that would come in time.

He glanced up when he saw Lucky Spencer come through the door with Dante Falconieri. The latter broke off to head down to the garage where he was supposed to report to Beaudry for patrol and Lucky came over to Taggert.

He saw the younger man glance at the empty desk where Vinnie usually sat before planting himself in front of Taggert’s desk.

He still couldn’t believe the little smart-ass punk he’d rousted more than once for trespassing had become a cop, but so far Taggert was pleasantly surprised by how well he seemed to take to the role.

Lucky didn’t look that happy right now and Taggert gestured for him to talk. “What’s on your mind, Spencer? Take a seat.”

Lucky sat in Taggert’s witness chair but shifted uncomfortably. “I know I haven’t been here long, and maybe it’s not right to think I know what’s best…”

“Spit it out.”

“Last weekend, I went on a follow up interview with Detective Esposito. A rape and assault case from the end of May.” Lucky hesitated. “He…was rough with the vic in a way…I didn’t think was okay.”

Taggert lifted his brows. “Can you be more specific?”

“He just…he asked her what she was wearing, and why she’d been in the park after dark.” Lucky bit his lip. “And when she tried to push back on it, he…just…he didn’t _say_ it was her fault, Taggert, but—”

“He was less sensitive than he should have been, you mean,” Taggert interrupted. He sighed, pressing his index fingers against his temples. “Okay. I get it. I’m sure you’re even right.”

“But you can’t do anything.”

“It’s not against the law to be a dick. I wish it was, but that’s the world we live in. I think, personally, Vinnie is burnt out on sex crimes. He did Vice for a while in his first go around, and I know he spent a full two years in Sex Crimes in Buffalo. It’s a tough beat, and it’s easy to—” He shook his head. “I don’t have to tell you how hard it can be with rape victims.”

Lucky blinked at him, and then slowly said, “You mean because of Elizabeth. Because I—I helped her.”

He said it haltingly, which made Taggert frown, but he nodded. “Yeah. You gotta be sensitive. But the horrors of the job—it takes something out of you. If you’re not especially empathetic to begin with—” He stopped. “You think I’m making excuses for him.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. That’s why I’m _here_.”

“He’s not working any more sexual assault cases going forward,” Taggert told him. “He has the ones he’s already picked up, but going forward, that’s my beat. I know you’re frustrated, Spencer. I know Rodriguez and Falconieri are, too. It kills me to think we got a crop of rookies ready to throw in the towel after a week—”

“It’s not like that—”

“That’s not a gripe at you, kid. That’s at this place. I know the problems here. I don’t know if we can fix them overnight. I’m asking you guys to give me a chance to see if we can. You already know that I put Rodriguez on the fast-track to promotion. I’d like all three of you to take the detective’s exam within the next two years. I think—I hope we’ll have some spots opening soon.”

Lucky hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks for hearing me out.” He got to his feet and left.

_Wednesday, July 2, 2003_

**General Hospital: Elizabeth’s Room**

One of her other doctors had braced her arms and helped her from the bed to cross the three feet to the small sofa under windows. Elizabeth felt that she had exhausted all the energy she’d had to offer that day, between her three-foot journey to the sofa and the trip three flights down to a regular hospital room.

She was relieved to be out of the ICU with its clear and open rooms—to be taken off display. She knew from the newspapers she’d asked the staff for that her face continued to be plastered all over the tabloids, and more than a few patients and visitors had paused just too long by her room for her comfort.

Here—there were real walls and a door that would keep people out—Jason had offered someone to stand there, but Elizabeth wasn’t comfortable with that either. Not yet. Ric was still in jail—his initial request to be let out on bail had been denied though apparently, he’d appealed it.

He’d be out soon, but until then, Elizabeth didn’t want to feel any more confined.

Once her doctor—the name on his jacket read Patrick Drake—had settled her, he arched a thick dark brow. “You sure you’re okay if I leave you?”

“Yeah, I have…someone is coming in a little while. He’ll help me get back into bed.” Jason had promised to stop by once she’d been moved to her new room, but she knew he was busy getting things sorted out. She imagined in his business it was like transitioning between peacetime and war for a government.

“All right, well…” He set the remote next to her. “I’ll leave your call button.” He hesitated. “You know, I just started my fellowship here and you were my first case.”

“I hope it was an interesting learning experience,” she said dryly.

Patrick laughed, a small, almost embarrassed sound. “It was, actually, but um, I—I had to be the one to tell your…people that your chances weren’t great. Fifteen percent when you went up to the cath lab.”

She exhaled slowly. “I know—”

“I just wanted to say I’m glad we—that you pulled through. It’s good to see you on your feet.” He shoved his hands in the pocket of his lab coat. “But don’t go doing too much too soon and ruining all our hard work.”

And now Elizabeth laughed. “Don’t worry. Once I’m out of this hospital, I don’t want to be back. I’ll follow the directions Monica gives me to the letter.”

Behind them, the door to the room opened and Jason stepped in, hesitantly. “Am I—is this a good time?”

“It’s fine. Patrick is one of the doctors on your mother’s team. Or at least he was when I came in.”

“Patrick Drake. Fellowship in neurology—I’m specializing in blood clots, so Monica called me in when the paramedics called dispatch.” He said this to Jason, who nodded but clearly wasn’t interested.

“So, you don’t have to worry about me when I leave the hospital,” Elizabeth told her doctor. “I imagine Jason is going to make sure I follow all the instructions.”

“Great. Well, I better check on my other patients.” Patrick tipped his head to the both of them and then left. Jason eyed him as he left, then looked at Elizabeth.

“He was hitting on you,” Jason said, almost amused.

“Until you showed up and he remembered who I know.” But Elizabeth smiled. “Yeah, he was putting on some charm. Mild. It’s nice because I’m in sweats and I look…” She ran her hands through her hair. “Dry shampoo isn’t really great, but it’s all I can do for now.”

He nodded to the flower arrangement on the table next to her bed—a cream colored vase with an explosion of tulips, daisies, and carnations in various colors. “I—you got the flowers.”

“I did…thank you. I wasn’t…” She bit her lip as he sat down next to her. She winced as she turned towards him, curling her leg under her body. “I wasn’t expecting it, but it was nice to see color.”

“Emily suggested it,” he admitted. “She said your new room was even more depressing than the last one.” He hesitated. “How...are you feeling?”

That old awkward feeling was starting to creep in—that sensation of not knowing what to say, not wanting to say too much—wanting to hide underneath a rock—she could feel it sitting between them as it had for much of the last three or four months. After the anger had passed—they didn’t know what to say to each other—and now that the adrenaline of the past week had faded—

Elizabeth stared down at her hands for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Bobbie convinced me to see Gail Baldwin.”

Jason squinted. “That’s…Baldwin’s mother, right?”

“Stepmother, but yeah. Essentially. I, um, saw her for a while when I was raped. And a little bit after the guy was caught, but I didn’t go when—after the fire. Gram wanted me to, but I wasn’t…I don’t know. I guess it would have helped, but then I wouldn’t have been angry enough that night to go to Jake’s.” She offered him a half-smile which he returned. “That would have sucked.”

“Yeah, it would have. So…am I—” Jason hesitated, looking uncertain. “Should—can I ask?”

“Well, the reason I brought it up is that Gail always ends our sessions with a homework assignment. Something I’m supposed to do that uses what we talked about.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together, trying to figure out the best way to do this. “I—her assignments back then were always useful, you know? She’d tell me to do small things, but they always helped. The first thing she asked me to do was to look in a mirror and tell myself it wasn’t my fault, and—” On a shaky sigh, she continued, “It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, and I cried, but then I did it again. And I did it every day until I believed it.”

“I’m glad she could be there for you,” Jason said, his voice was rough, his eyes soft.

“What she wanted me to do this time kind of involves—I mean, it actually _is_ about you, so I just…I guess I should explain it. Um…we didn’t really get into Ric or…what happened. I started to, but I guess she could see I wasn’t really ready.” Elizabeth traced the seam of her sweat pants. “So, she asked me what I was going to do when I left, and somehow—she’s always good at doing this—we started talking about what happened last year. When I—I left.”

Jason exhaled slowly. Nodded. “Yeah…I guess we _should_ talk about that.”

“Um, she kind of got me to see that I tend to, like…make up stories is the wrong way to say it, but—” Elizabeth stopped. “I don’t know how to explain it except…I guess I expect the worst, you know? I—I assume I’m going to be disappointed or unhappy, so I just…tell myself a story to understand it, and—” She saw his expression, and sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Elizabeth—”

“When I left—that night—” Her chest felt tight, but this time, Elizabeth knew it had nothing to do with her illness. God, she didn’t want to do this, but maybe this _was_ the only way. “I told myself that you—you didn’t tell me about Sonny because you didn’t trust me—because you thought I was too weak—”

And at the alarm in Jason’s eyes, the violent shake of his head as he opened his mouth, that pressure released. “And I can see now that’s _not_ true.”

“ _No_ ,” Jason said, forcefully. “Elizabeth—”

“Three hours passed between watching it on the news and when I started to pack,” she said softly. “I knew—I knew you couldn’t call me right away.  But I thought…they said you’d been released. And I thought you might…even a five second call. But you didn’t.” And now was not the time to tell him everything about those three hours and the panic attack she’d experienced waiting for him.

“Elizabeth—”

“Let me finish. This isn’t—this isn’t about _you_ feeling bad. And I promise I will listen to every word you have to say. I’m not even saying how I felt was _right_. But it’s part of the reason, I think, that we ended up…where we did. Because you didn’t call. And I kept waiting. And finally, around midnight, I started to pack. I kept telling myself that it was just that I had broken your trust that summer and you didn’t have…you didn’t want to just tell me that. And then I remembered you kept pushing me away, so I thought it was about not thinking I was strong enough—”

“Elizabeth…” Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“And when you did come home—” She stopped, the tears clinging to her lashes. “When you did come _back_ ,” she corrected softly, “I still…I wanted to be wrong. But you…you told me it wasn’t about me, and I guess objectively that was true. But what I heard…what I felt…was that I didn’t _matter_.”

The anguish she could see now— “I—that’s not—I messed it up.”

“But that’s what I do, Jason. I make up stories to explain what’s going on, and those stories are always the worst versions. Because I don’t know how to assume the best. I can only assume the worst.” She sighed.

“I _wanted_ to tell you,” Jason said after a moment. She looked at him. “When Sonny and I planned it, we talked about how to minimize the damage. Michael went to the island so that no one could tell him. Carly—Sonny said Carly _had_ to know. And so, I thought—I wanted to tell you. But Sonny said no.”

She bit her lip. “Okay.”

“I argued with him, but maybe not as much as I should have,” Jason admitted. “It wasn’t supposed to last so long, and I—Sonny and I had been having some issues. When you were kidnapped, he didn’t approve of what I had to do to find you.”

“I never did ask how you were able…” Elizabeth tilted her head. “What did you have to do that Sonny…”

“I asked Edward,” Jason said after a moment. “And Taggert.”

“Taggert. As in…” She gestured out the window as if the PCPD was across the street. Her eyes were wide. “You asked _Taggert_ for help.”

“I’m glad I did, because I was able to find you, and I’d do it again,” Jason told her fervently. “Because we might not have made it if I’d handled it Sonny’s way. But he…was already irritated because of that. And all that stuff with Alcazar…I told you he gets into these dark spaces. And it was…I couldn’t chance that happening. Not when we had so much at stake.”

“Okay—”

“It wasn’t supposed to take a _month_ ,” Jason repeated, leaning in. “It was…a week, max.  But it kept going on. And then there was Brenda—we didn’t figure on her. Every time I saw you, I _knew_ I was lying to you, and I knew you’d be angry. I didn’t call you that night. I thought about it, but I…didn’t know what to say. And that’s why I said something so unbelievably stupid—” He broke off. “You _mattered_ , Elizabeth. Of course you did. And of course what happened with Alcazar concerned you.”

She nodded. “Okay,” Elizabeth murmured. “Okay, I get it—” She cleared her throat. “Um, that actually wasn’t the homework that…Gail gave me, but I guess…I needed to give you an example of a time I told myself a story that…assumed the worst.”

“Okay—” Jason reached for her hand. “So, what did Gail want you to do?”

“She wanted me to do two things. About last week…um, I guess we can say that…stuff happened.” Her cheeks flushed, and she dipped her head. “We…”

“I kissed you. And you kissed me,” Jason said matter of factly.

“Right. Um…she wanted me to tell myself a story that didn’t automatically…have a bad ending. And then second to…actually ask you what…that was all about.” She looked down at his hand as his thumb moved in slow circles on her palm. “Because I told her that it was adrenaline—and now that it was over, things would go back to the way they’d been.”

She looked up, but now she saw he was waiting for her to finish. “So the story I…the better version of that is that…” No way to go but forward. “The better version,” she began again, “is that I love you. When I’d call you at night…I didn’t just do it to check in. I could have sent texts. I needed _your_ voice to be the last one I heard before I went to sleep.” Her heart pounding, she continued, not taking her eyes from his. “That’s the truth for me. That’s how I feel. The part where I tell the better story is what it was for you…and the best version of that truth is that…you felt the same for me.”

He was quiet for a long moment, just looking at her with those eyes—oh, God…she wasn’t crazy.

“I didn’t really sleep a lot last week,” he said finally. “I spent the nights watching surveillance—and every time I saw you on the monitor, I could breathe easier. When you sent texts or called first thing in the morning to let me know you were okay—that’s how _I_ got through it.”

He paused for a moment. “Because I love you. I put it away. I had to, and I tried…I tried something else. I tried to move on. But walking out of that house that first night—leaving you behind— _every_ time I had to let you go back because I knew you were right. I knew that the house was important, and I had to let you stay.”

Jason stopped, as if trying to find the right words. “It was almost impossible, and there were times I would find myself halfway to the house just to argue with you again. _Not_ because I thought you were too weak to do it, but I knew you would stay until the bitter end if it meant we could have a find a chance to find Carly. Because _that’s_ how strong you are.”

A single sob burst from her throat. “Jason—”

“I went with you in the ambulance,” he told her. “And they—you went into cardiac arrest. Your heart stopped for thirty seconds. You were _dead_. They got you back, but they looked at me—and I knew they were thinking how to tell me—they wanted me to prepare myself because you might make it to the hospital, but that you probably wouldn’t survive—” He stopped, shook his head and looked away.

“Jason…” She murmured. Elizabeth released his hand and turned his face back towards her, framing it with her hands. His eyes were bright and glittering with unshed tears. “I don’t even…I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s…” He hesitated. “What was the second part of your homework?”

“To ask you what last week meant to you, but you already—” She slid closer to him, only wincing slightly. “You already answered that.” She hesitated. “What…what happens next—no, wait let me rephrase that. What do you want to happen next?”

“What do I want…” Jason drew in a deep breath as if he hadn’t considered that. “I just want you.”

“Well, lucky me…because that’s what I want, too.” She closed the short distance between them, and kissed him, lingering, savoring every minute. For a moment, it remained light, but she could feel the tension in in his body, the bunching of his muscles, and then his fingers slid up to cradle her face and shift the angle of her head. As if a dam had burst, he deepened the kiss, pulling her more tightly against him.

She broke away, gasping for breath, her chest heaving. He had tugged her forward until she sat partially in his lap.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked, his breath shallow, and she was stunned to see his fingers trembling slightly as he tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

“I guess I’m not quite as ready for this part as I thought,” Elizabeth said wryly, then winced and pressed a hand to her chest. “I think I’m supposed to avoid activities that require breathing hard.”

Jason laughed, the rumble in his chest spreading through her as well. “Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.”

“I also think I just aced my homework.”


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_Like a small boat_  
 _On the ocean_  
 _Sending big waves_  
 _Into motion_  
 _Like how a single word_  
 _Can make a heart open_  
 _I might only have one match_  
 _But I can make an explosion_  
\- Fight Song, Rachel Platten

* * *

_Thursday, July 3, 2003_

**General Hospital: Kevin Collins’ Office**

Carly twisted her fingers in her lap and looked longingly at the door to Kevin Collins’ office through which her son and his nanny had just exited.

She wanted to be with them and _done_ with her therapy. Done with the horrors of the panic room and her kidnapping. She wanted to start the next step of her life—to put this away for good and never think about it again.

But there was no denying that the flurry of sessions she’d scheduled with Kevin _had_ helped—she’d learned how to deal with the panic attacks that seemed to strike without warning, how to recognize potential triggers for anxiety and nightmares, and even how to deal with her young son’s terror over watching her kidnapping.

The first time she’d seen Michael after her rescue, she’d gone into a daze. Just the sight of his face, his tears, had sent her careening back to that horrible night—she’d been struggling to escape Ric, trying to fight off the drug he used to knock her out—seeing Michael’s sobbing face—his screams as the world had gone dark—

“I think that went well,” Kevin said as Carly stared down at her hands, turning the gold wedding band she wore. Around and around. Around and around. “How was your first night home?”

“Good,” Carly murmured. When Kevin just raised his brows, she sighed and lifted her chin. “Hard,” she admitted. “Sonny’s hovering. He can’t help it. When we found out about the baby—” She pressed her hands to the mound of her belly. “He went into nutrition Nazi mode, you know? He threw out all my junk food—and it’s just in his nature. But he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

She turned her head to look out the window where Kevin’s office overlooked Port Charles Park. “You’ve lived in Port Charles a long time, so you know about his first wife—about Lily.”

“I do. I was there that night at Luke’s,” Kevin said. “They had been celebrating her pregnancy.”

“Yeah, well, he couldn’t protect her. And our first little boy—um, Sonny had to choose me. I mean, there was no saving our son anyway. If I died, the doctors—our son wasn’t old enough.” Her chest was tight as she continued. “We both…we both feel a huge responsibility to take care of this baby. I’m not surprised he hasn’t left me alone. I _don’t_ blame him.”

“But it’s not easy for you,” Kevin said.

“No. I…I was alone all week, but it didn’t feel like it. Not really. I knew Ric could come in at any point, and there were cameras—I worried maybe Ric was watching me somehow from where he was—” The hairs on her arms stood up at the memory and she shivered. “But…I slept okay last night. I did what you said. I set the alarm every two hours a—and it seemed to work. I’m still a little tired but I didn’t have nightmares.”

“Good.” He nodded, scribbled something. “This _is_ going to be an adjustment, Carly, and there’s no right way or correct length of time. Acute stress disorder usually fades after about a month—especially when you’ve faced it head on. But you might still have some panic attacks, some anxiety—”

“I want it to be over, but it’s not—he’s in jail. There will be a trial—I’ll have to testify, and—” Carly swallowed. “Baldwin said something about maybe testifying when Elizabeth’s temporary restraining order expires in a few weeks—”

“What do you think about that?”

“About testifying? In the trial, I mean, I have to. I was there. And—and I’m sure Ric would try to blame it on Elizabeth, but I was there, and I _know_ what he said to me. Um…I guess that means I have to testify for her, too. I saw it—I know what he did to her.” Carly shifted. “I just want it to go away. The more I want that, the more it seems to stay in my head. I want to go back to work, I want to get ready for my baby, think about my husband and son.” Her voice trembled. “I want it to be over, but it’s _never_ going to be over.”

“No?”

“Even when he goes to jail,” Carly said slowly, “that’s not going to stop that…I can just close my eyes and I’m back there. I’m locked away, convinced that no matter how hard he tries, Jason is never going to find me. I just know I’m going to die behind those walls, and just because I didn’t—I can’t seem to stop…I don’t know how to convince myself it’s over.”

“You may not be able to do that in the first week,” Kevin told her bluntly. “Or the second. I know this is not the answer you want to hear, Carly, but the only thing that’s going to make this better is time.”

“Yeah…” She exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I know that. Here—” She touched her index finger to her temple. “Up here, I get it. That every day is a step forward. And that testifying against Ric and being part of the process _is_ going to help make it stop. But it’s hard—” She bit her lip to hold in the sob that bubbled in her throat. “It’s hard here—” Carly pressed her hand against her chest, “Here, I can’t seem to hold on to that. When the sight of my little boy reminds me of terror, when the thought of my husband constantly at my side makes me want to scream—it’s hard to remember that.”

Kevin merely nodded. “There’s no answer for that, Carly. No magical thing I can do for you or tell you. I wish there was.”

She sighed. “Well, I guess that would have been too easy.”

**District Attorney Wing, Municipal Building: Kelsey Joyce’s Office**

Kelsey frowned down at her open case report—and then looked back at the reports that had been emailed to her that morning.

“Lazy bastards,” she muttered as she brought up her email screen and started an email to Vincent Esposito. “Catch a case and then don’t put it on the report? No _wonder_ your closure rate is in the toilet—”

“You gotta minute, Kelsey?”

She glanced up to find her boss at her doorstep, folders in his hand. Kelsey winced— “That’s not more cases for me, is it?” She already had twenty open cases from the PCPD along with thirty-five on their way to the court in the next few weeks.

The ink on her law license was barely dry, and already Kelsey was going to drown in work. She’d thought being given her own division would be a boon to her career—a great first step to one day becoming District Attorney.

But now she understood _why_ this division couldn’t hold an attorney for long. Lazy cops, too many cases, too few hours—Two weeks in, and Kelsey was ready to throw in the towel.

“No, no…” Scott eyed the boxes littering every surface of the small office. “I wanted to talk to you about giving you some ADAs...two or three.”

She squinted at him as he carefully lifted a pile of folders from her lone chair and set them precariously on the floor. “Who do I have to kill?”

“It’s part of an overall—” He coughed. “Restructuring of our priorities. I told you when you started that Port Charles had issues—and I’m sure you saw the Sunday edition of the _Herald_ —the DA’s office didn’t come out of this whole thing with a shining reputation.”

“No, but we fared better than the PCPD. A nice _anonymou_ s source who made sure the paper knew that the DA had, in fact, forbid the leaking of anything about the case.” Kelsey lifted her brows. “And your arrest for contempt wasn’t bad either.”

“We do what we can here.” Scott shifted. “The only catch is that—they’re not much younger than you. In fact…they’re about your age. We’re not attracting the best and brightest in Port Charles…not for long.” He grimaced. “We have a talent drain to Buffalo and Rochester.”

“I’ve heard.” Kelsey twirled her pen between her fingers. “Three ADAs would bring this office to four total attorneys. We have thirty-five cases ready for court, and twenty more that the PCPD is…investigating. It’s still a heavy case load, Scott. But yeah, thirteen cases is better than fifty four. And then when that ADA comes back from maternity leave—” She sighed when she saw Scott’s expression. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

He cleared his throat. “We’re going to do better, Kelsey—”

“You can do everything you want, Scott, but how are you going to solve the problem at the PCPD?” Kelsey gestured at her screen. “I got cops who can’t follow _simple_ instructions. There was a sexual assault last night that Vinnie Esposito picked up and it’s not on the open case report.”

“Last night?” Scott checked his watch. “It’s noon. Those case reports are updated every morning.” He scowled, circled the desk. “Tell me about it.”

“Port Charles Park,” she said, tugging the police report towards her. “Twenty-three-year-old Wendy Morris, on her way home from the movie theater. Grabbed near the Martin Memorial, beaten, raped, and left unconscious. She was found around eleven p.m.” Kelsey hesitated. “It’s…the _third_ rape in the park this year.”

“Third—” Scott hissed. “Tell me the rest.”

“February 14 at the fountain in the north part of the park, Dana Watson, aged twenty-one, and May 30, sixteen-year-old Renee Norton at the Angel Fountain.” Kelsey chewed her bottom lips, twisting it between her teeth. “These are _all_ Vinnie’s cases. And none of them have made any progress. I asked him about it but—”

“Wait, wait—the _new_ case is Vinnie’s?” Scott interrupted. He waved his hand in the air. “He’s not supposed to be handling any more sex crimes.” He huffed. “I’ll talk to Mac. You’re right. I can’t keep people here if the cops aren’t going to turn over the paperwork when we need it.”

“Scott—” She stopped him as he started for the door. “I know that in other offices, I’d be starting at the bottom, and that you only took the interview with me because of my dad.  I’m grateful…but I feel like I’m swimming upstream—”

“I know.” Scott sighed. “I’ll try to get the new ADAs reassigned here by Monday. And I’ll talk to Mac. Three rapes in the park in six months—that’s _not_ something we should letting slip through the cracks. We’re going to do better, Kelsey.”

“Okay.” She watched him go, then returned to her work. He might _want_ to do better, but he wasn’t a miracle worker.

**General Hospital: Elizabeth’s Room**

Elizabeth smiled as Nikolas wheeled her back into her room. “It was nice to get out of the room a little bit—thanks for taking me outside.”

“I thought you might want some fresh air after being cooped up in ICU.” Nikolas set the brakes on the chair and then braced Elizabeth by holding her elbow as she stood and gingerly inched towards the sofa. “Careful there. Are you _sure_ you’ll be ready to leave the hospital next week?”

“Yeah.” Elizabeth grimaced as she adjusted herself. “It’s easier to move around, and Monica wants me to start doing laps around the ward.” She reached for his wrist and looked at the watch. “An orderly or a nurse is coming to get me in a half hour for my first round.”

“Okay. Well, I brought the lease for you to sign,” Nikolas told her. “Are you sure you didn’t want more pictures?”

She waved her hand. “No, no. It’s fine. I don’t need a lot. Just somewhere to catch my breath. Did you have any trouble at the bank with the release I gave you?”

Nikolas lifted his brows. “I never have trouble with banks. Everyone wants the Cassadine money.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, that’s a relief, I guess. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. And Emily said she was grabbing a few things—I told her I just needed a bed, maybe a sofa and some chairs, but…I’m not going to argue with her.”

“Well, Emily feels guilty she went back to California. I’m sure it was the right thing to do at the time, but it doesn’t change the fact she feels like she abandoned you.” Nikolas lifted a shoulder. “And she’ll be flying back there tomorrow—”

“It’s important to me that she finishes this program,” Elizabeth told him, firmly. “And Jason agrees with me. Emily wants to be a doctor. Her internship at GH is contingent—”

“ _I_ have the controlling interest in this hospital,” Nikolas said patiently, “and her parents—”

“She doesn’t want special favors. She’ll do this on her own. I’ll call her.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “And I’ll do better about that. I won’t ignore her calls. I’ll make my own. I promise.”

“Good, then when you’re finished calling her, you can pick up the phone and call me.” Nikolas squeezed her hand. “That’s one of the reasons I came by today.”

“You’re going back to London,” she murmured. “I wondered when…”

“I came back to find Carly and help you. We’ve done that. Lulu is going to come with me, but we’ll both be back in August sometime. I talked to Lesley, and she says Mom is starting to chafe at being away from everyone.”

“Oh, do you think she can get the rest of her treatment here?” Elizabeth asked. “It would be so nice to see her around again.”

“I’m looking into the possibility, but her recovery comes first. That’s one of the reasons I have to go back. Lesley and Luke aren’t always firm with her.” Nikolas paused. “But I’m just across the ocean, and I’m always here if you need me. I _need_ you to know that. Everything that happened before—it’s done now. I think I’m a better person, and I just—I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” She leaned forward and hugged him lightly. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Damn straight.”

**Corinthos & Morgan Warehouse: Office**

Sonny scrawled his signature on another contract and handed it back to Bernie. “Is that the last of it?”

“Should be.” Bernie put the paperwork away. “We’re back on schedule to open the coffee house at the end of the month, but—the architect said that Mrs. Corinthos was going to be in charge of interior design. Did you—want to hold off?”

“Um, I guess, I’ll talk to her about it at home. She might want a project to distract herself.” Sonny hoped she did. He looked at Jason as his partner sat on the sofa in the office, skimming contracts of his own. “Thanks, Bernie. For everything.”

“I’ll check in when they’re filed.”

Their new business manager left the office, and Sonny stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I guess we’re going to have to talk to Justus. He said he’d only be available to us for a little while, but that he wasn’t interested in leaving his practice in Philadelphia.”

“He’s married with a kid down there,” Jason murmured. “Emily mentioned it last year.” He paused. “He might relocate if you made it worth his while.”

“I’ll try it out, but we’ll have to look for other representation if he’s not interested. I doubt Alexis is going to want to come back now that she has her license back.” Sonny leaned back his chair. “Bobbie thinks I’m crazy.”

Jason looked at him, his attention focused now. “She said that?”

“Not in so many words, but she thinks that I should talk to someone.” Sonny grimaced. “Talk to someone. She’s watching too much fucking television.”

When his best friend hesitated, Sonny frowned at him. “What, do you _agree_?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sonny. We had a plan to deal with Carly—” Jason got to his feet. “You were supposed to keep the PCPD out of my hair and the business running, and I’d find Carly. Except that within two days, I was doing everything. I’m not angry about it, but the fact was…”

“I was useless.” Sonny sighed, turned his attention to his office window—unlike Jason who had preferred to look out over the lake, Sonny preferred the docks. “I’ve always had these dark moods, Jason. Since…I don’t know. Not when I was kid. But maybe the last twenty years. Maybe since…” He hesitated. “I had a girl once. A sweet girl. Elizabeth reminds me of her sometimes. Connie Falconieri.”

“Falconieri—” Jason squinted. “There’s a cop by that name at the PCPD.”

“Might be related. I don’t know. She broke up with me because she was going to college, and I was going to stay in the neighborhood. Trying like hell to make my bones for Joe Scully.” He looked back at Jason. “It was the only way I was gonna get revenge for my mother after Deke killed her.”

“Sonny—”

“After Connie got on the train for Princeton, I had my first—I guess…my first whatever. I locked myself in a room for three days, didn’t want to come out. Got drunk. Got stupid. And my mother was there.” Sonny exhaled slowly. “Lily’s not the first hallucination I’ve ever had. My mother was.”

“I don’t know if talking to someone helps, but…” Jason joined him at the window. “I do know that Elizabeth mentioned something Gail Baldwin told her. She’s…been talking to her.” He cast his eyes away, uncomfortable. “And Elizabeth said that Gail could only report future crimes. So…”

“I could probably be honest to a point,” Sonny murmured. He stared out over the bustling docks—for the last decade, he had busted his ass to make sure he owned those docks. No one could take the power from him.

“It kills me that when my wife needed me to be strong, I couldn’t do it,” he continued. “That she wasn’t expecting me to save her—you hear her talking about it. She knew _you’d_ come, Jase. She knew _you’d_ save her.”

“She saw me on the cameras, Sonny—”

Sonny shook his head quickly. “It’s more than that. She still thinks of you as the man who’s going to fix everything, and that—it kills me that she was right. I could break down, Jason, because I knew you would be there. That you _would_ find her.”

“But you found her, Sonny. You saw the footage, you called me—”

“I saw footage on cameras you installed,” Sonny corrected. “And Elizabeth pushed that button. I was barely involved. I don’t know, Jason. I just…I want more. I want to be the guy who can fix things. It shouldn’t fall on you.” He looked at Jason. “So…maybe I’m thinking about it.”

**General Hospital: Elizabeth’s Room**

Restless, Elizabeth tossed aside another boring celebrity gossip magazine and amused herself with some of the _Sun_ issues from that week—between Carly’s kidnapping and the court battle over Elizabeth’s medical care, the newspaper had outdone itself with sensational versions of the story.

“I like the one where my baby is actually Jason’s, and Ric was stealing it for you because you’re obsessed with Jason.”

Elizabeth glanced up to find Carly standing at the threshold of her open hospital door, a half smile on her face.

She hadn’t seen Carly since…before the kidnapping, Elizabeth realized now. She may have pressed the button that freed Carly, but she hadn’t actually seen her—she’d only heard her voice.

“Carly…” Elizabeth struggled to sit up straight, wincing as her lungs protested. “I thought you were released.”

“I was.” Carly made her way gingerly across the room, dressed in a shapeless blue paisley sheath dress, a pair of light blue sandals wrapped around her feet. She lowered herself onto the sofa where Elizabeth found herself. “I had a session with Kevin Collins today. Mama suggested…I do something.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly. “Yeah, she must be on staff with the Psych department—she pretty much guilt-tripped me into seeing Gail Baldwin.”

“Well, that’s my mother for you.” Carly bit her lip. “I…realized today that we hadn’t…had a chance to…I don’t even know…talk. I mean, it’s insane, but I _know_ I owe you my life—”

“No, no—I just pressed the button. I was there. Sonny and Jason were on their way—they had the same information—”

“Elizabeth…” Carly leaned forward. “You forget that there were cameras in that panic room. I saw you let Jason in every day to look for me. I saw you help him. And the only reason you knew where the buttons were because of the cameras _you_ let Jason put into the house.”

“He probably would have done all of that without me. I just…”

“Made it so he could do it legally and not face charges. I’m not nice that often, Elizabeth, so don’t argue with me.” She bit her lip. “Do…do you know why Ric did what he did?”

“I don’t know for sure, but based on…I don’t know…everything, I imagine he intended for us to raise your child through a private adoption he’d arrange.” Elizabeth waited a moment. “I want to say I’m sorry, and part of me feels like I should tell you I never hinted that was something I wanted but…” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s not…it’s not my fault. Losing the baby—” Her voice faltered. “I didn’t do it. And I couldn’t change what he did. I just wanted it to stop.”

“Kevin has diagnosed me with acute stress disorder,” Carly told her. “It’s um, kind of like PTSD, only it’s usually shorter in—”

“I know what it is,” Elizabeth said softly. “I…had it last year.” When Carly widened her eyes. “After I was trapped in the crypt, I, um, had a lot of trouble with the dark, and I got scared so easily. I kept thinking they were going to take me again. I kept…ignoring it and trying to forget.”

“Jason never—”

“I’ve never told him. He already blamed himself for what was going on, and by the time I knew what it was…” Elizabeth shrugged. “I went to the hospital after the warehouse exploded last year. I’d been grazed by a bullet. When I went back for a follow up, I—I don’t even remember what it was, but something triggered a panic attack. My grandmother—” She closed her eyes. “She knew the signs. And she talked to some friends. I didn’t want therapy. I just wanted it to go away, so she got me some…tips and tricks. I skipped the therapy.”

“And that worked?” Carly asked skeptically.

“Mostly, I guess. I don’t know. I didn’t end up with PTSD which is always the risk. And, um, it was kind of relief to understand what was going on. I had…done and said a few things during some of the panic attacks that…were hard for me to understand. I didn’t…I tried to—” Elizabeth shrugged. “Anyway. They say, for the most part, time takes care of things.”

“So that part is true. It really does go away.”

Elizabeth hesitated. “I still don’t like the dark,” she offered. “But I haven’t…had a panic attack in about—” She dipped her head. “Maybe nine months.”

Carly tilted her head. “You had panic attacks when you were in the penthouse?”

“A few times. Um, it’s not a big deal, and it’s over. I just—I just didn’t need you to explain it to me—”

“Why didn’t you tell Jason?” Carly demanded. Elizabeth stared at her, and Carly pursed her lips. “You were dating him back then. You had no trouble telling me you thought he was with another woman. Why wouldn’t you admit you were…”

“Because it made me feel weak, Carly.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “And actually, the last panic attack I had was the night I found out Sonny was alive and that everyone had lied to me. It never seemed like a good time.”

Carly squinted, studying her. “There were cameras,” she reminded her. “I know you and Jason—I know something is going on.”

“Is _that_ why you came here?” Elizabeth huffed. And here she was, trapped on the sofa. She couldn’t even easily get away. “If you want any explanations, you can ask Jason.”

“He’d just stare at me,” Carly muttered. “And then not answer the question. No, what I—Courtney asked me if I had seen anything. And I just wanted you to know that I didn’t tell her anything. I don’t plan on telling her, either.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together. “Thanks…I guess—”

“It was a private moment that I was never meant to see,” Carly told her. “Which means it’s none of Courtney’s business. She told me Jason broke up with her before then, and—” She huffed. “I was planning to stop the wedding anyway.”

Elizabeth lifted her brows. “I thought you were their biggest fan.”

“Yeah, well…” Carly threw up her hands. “Even I’ve been known to be wrong from time to time. Look, if you’re…seeing Jason or dating him or whatever we’ll call it, it’s fine with me. I know—I know he killed himself trying to find me. I know you were with him every step of the way. And he was so scared for you, I didn’t even see him until the day after I was rescued.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “Okay. I appreciate that.”

“I came here to thank you for saving my life. For…believing Sonny and Jason and helping them.” Carly rubbed her belly. “It’s just…this isn’t over yet, you know? The…panic room…the kidnapping—yeah, that’s over. We’re both…I guess…in recovery. But there’s so much crap in front of us.”

“The trial,” Elizabeth murmured, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Yeah. And I have the divorce, the restraining order…”

“Ric isn’t out of our lives yet, so I guess I just wanted you to know that if you…if you need my help during the divorce or the protection hearing…” Carly took a deep breath. “I’m ready. I’ll testify.”

“Thank you, Carly. That means a lot to me.”

“And…” Carly hauled herself to her feet. “You should tell Jason about last year. Every time I keep secrets from Sonny and Jason, it just seems to piss them off.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Take care, Elizabeth. I’ll see you around.”

_Tuesday, July 8, 2003_

**General Hospital: Elizabeth’s Hospital Room**

It felt really good to be on her feet, dressed in her own clothes, showered, and packing her things to leave this room. While Elizabeth was grateful to everyone who had worked on her case, she was eager to leave this all behind her.

As much as she could anyway. Her pulmonary embolism would follow her the rest of her life, according to Monica. She would always have an increased risk of blood clots, and most types of hormonal birth control were out of the question from now on.

But she wasn’t going to let that bother her. She had slowly regained her stamina even if she got tired more quickly than it had been. Monica and the other doctors assured her that as the weeks passed, her natural health would reassert itself. She had been healthy until the last year, and her immune system had been strong.

She turned at the knock at her door and managed a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jason slid his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. His gaze swept over her and she could tell he was fighting the urge to ask her to sit down, to let him finish putting her things into the tote bag. He said nothing, and she was grateful for it.

She wasn’t weak, and it mattered that he knew it.

“Nikolas left the keys with me before he left for the airport last night.” Elizabeth took the set of gold keys from her pocket. “He said you dealt with security.”

“Ric’s not out on bail, but he’s got his hearing soon,” Jason said after a long moment. “I just want to make sure he can’t get to you there.”

She lifted her tote bag from the bed, and Jason held out his hand for it. Without arguing, she handed it to him. He slung it over his shoulder, then reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.

It was the first time she’d left the room with Jason, and as they walked down the hall towards the elevators together, Elizabeth knew people were watching her, maybe even whispering. _The Sun_ had continued to print gossip about her and Jason, about the entire scandal.

There would always be people who believed the worst about her. Elizabeth just didn’t have to accept it as truth. Not anymore.

“Hey,” she said as Jason pressed the button for the elevator.

He glanced down at her with worry. “Are you okay? Are you having trouble breathing—”

“No.” She rolled her eyes but smiled as she did it. “I’m fine. I just—with everything that’s happened, and I know how much we still have to worry about—I’m just happy. Right now, in this moment—I’m happy to be with you.”

The elevator door opened, and he pulled her inside. When the doors closed, Jason tugged her closer to him, sliding his hand up to frame her cheek. “I love you,” he told her. “For all the times I wish I had said it before—”

“I love you, too. And as long as you’re standing next to me, I know I can deal with whatever comes next.” She pressed her lips to his, lingering, savoring every minute.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note**
> 
> So that’s the end of Book 1. As you can see, I’ve laid some bread crumbs for the next part. The PCPD and DA’s office are falling apart, the teens are on the fringes and will play a large role in the next book.
> 
> Book 2 is going to be a bigger ensemble piece, but it’s going to have Jason and Liz at the center of it. A few years ago, one of my friends almost died from a pulmonary embolism so when I started to plan this draft, I wanted to take her PE seriously in a way the show never did.
> 
> I did a lot of research into the recovery and learned a lot that can fuel some really good conflict and I think what’s going to happen in Book 2 is going to be even better than Book 1.
> 
> I don’t have a release date for Book 2 just yet, but I’m already about 20% finished it. I’m hoping to have it posted by April at the latest, but stay tuned to my website and my Twitter feed.
> 
> Thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it!


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